


The Road Not Taken

by seekrest



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Marvel said PeterMJ rights!, Multiverse Shenanigans, Not Spider-Man: Far From Home Compliant, Peter Parker Deserves Better, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker is a Good Dad, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Protective Michelle Jones, Protective Peter Parker, the answer is no, will I ever stop hurting this boi?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-26
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2020-03-17 19:55:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 37,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18971959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seekrest/pseuds/seekrest
Summary: “Karen, what is that?”If Karen answers, Peter doesn’t hear it.It’s like fire, the lightning – a spark, white-hot and blinding – as it hits him straight on. He cries out in pain.Peter didn’t know who was behind it.Peter doesn’t know if he hits the ground, doesn’t know if anyone has called for help.All Peter knows is that he’s falling, falling…The darkness over takes him.Until Peter doesn’t know anything at all.





	1. Divergence.

**Author's Note:**

> This idea hit me a few days ago and once I started writing it, it’s like I could not stop. This is completely out of my comfort zone, but you know what, we’re doing it live.

PART ONE

 

“Peter, come on baby. We gotta go.”

Peter’s whole body is aching, the sob in the back of his throat threatening to overtake him.

“Just… just one more minute, May. Please?” May’s face softens, a hand on his shoulder. They’ve outstayed their welcome, most having left in the hour after the ceremony. Pepper had told Peter that he and May could stay as long as they wanted, could even stay overnight but May had politely declined.

Peter knew on some level that she was right to do so, that May was trying to give Pepper the time she needed to grieve – to be alone. A part of Peter knows that of anyone who had been in attendance, May probably knew best what Pepper needed today.

Peter knows this. Knows that he should leave, that the sun was already starting to set – the arc reactor having long disappeared over the lake.

But as May squeezes his shoulder, before walking back to their car – Peter can’t help but feel that if he leaves, that it makes it real. That it’s true, that Tony Stark is really gone.

The tears that he had tried to so hard to hold in, the sob that had been building since he first walked up to the dock, it flows out of him as she walks away. Peter closes his eyes, letting the wave of grief wash over him.

It had happened again.

He used to joke with Ned that he must’ve done something terrible in another lifetime, that any bad thing that happened to him was just a feature of his life – good old Parker luck.

But this… this ache, the anguish Peter feels… he truly wonders what the hell he did to deserve this. His mom and dad. Ben. Tony. There was no one safe, no one he could truly protect – not for long.

As the sun sets, the sky a wondrous mix of colors that on any other day Peter would marvel at, he’s struck with how often he’s been in this exact position – in a suit that’s just a little too stiff, attending a funeral for another person in his life that he had loved, that he had lost.

As he looks out to the water, tears streaming down his face, Peter wishes with everything within him that it was all just a dream… that the past few days hadn’t happened, that he could go back to the bus – could go back to when life was simpler.

Peter takes a deep breath, closing his eyes as he exhales.

He can’t. He knows he can’t. Knows – with the awareness of someone who had encountered so much loss in such a short life – that as agonizing as this moment is, that he can’t give up. That if he lets himself sit in this moment for too long, the grief will overwhelm him.

Peter knows that he’ll never get over this loss. But he also knows – too well – that even in knowing he’ll carry this loss with him forever, he cannot fight reality any longer.  

“I’ll make you proud, Tony. I promise.” He whispers, eyes searching over the lake. All he hears is the quiet buzzing of insects, the soft conversations of those in the house. Peter knows that if he focused, he could listen more intently – could hear beyond the people around him. But he doesn’t.

Peter turns from the lake, his feet feeling like lead as he walks away.

Tony Stark was dead, had died saving the world. Peter couldn’t change that.

But Peter could do everything in his power to make sure Tony’s death wasn’t in vain.

* * *

“Peter, wake up! It’s time for school!”

He rolls over, glancing at the clock. He’d been up for a few hours already, hadn’t bothered to leave his bed because he knew that would just worry May. It hadn’t been a good night, he’d only slept for a few hours only to wake up with a start – a nightmare that he’d forgotten just as soon as he’d woken up.

Peter was used to it by now, used to the ache in his chest, the heaviness that settled on him when he was quiet, alone with his thoughts. He knows that he should be sleeping, should’ve tried to will himself to rest while he still could. He had a chem exam today, planned on patrolling later then maybe a movie with Ned.

He rubs his hand over his face, already feeling the weariness of the day before him. Peter hadn’t slept well at all, but he still had to get up and face the day.

He lifts himself out of bed, grabbing his phone as he leaves. He scrolls through his notification, catching some excited texts he’d missed last night from Ned, another from MJ about the exam.

“Hey kiddo, how’d you sleep?” May is flitting back and forth in the kitchen, getting ready for the day. She’d already set out a bowl for Peter, a half-hearted attempt to make him eat some breakfast. He never did, usually just grabbing something from Delmar’s on the way to school, but she never stopped. It was consistent though, routine.

“Fine, you know… big test today.” Peter shrugs as he opens the fridge and searches for some orange juice. He can feel May’s gaze on him, but he ignores it, taking longer than he needs to grab the carton.

“You really should eat something, Peter.”

“I know, May. I will. I promise, I’ll grab something on the way.” He pours out a glass of his juice before looking at her, already expecting the look on her face. Concern, worry, a little bit of disappointment. There was a wrinkle in the middle of her forehead that had seemed permanently fixed on her face now. A few months ago, Peter would’ve teased her about.

But a few months ago, Peter’s world hadn’t been turned upside down. Again.

“Well, if you change your mind – cereal’s on the top shelf.” Peter’s eyebrows quirk.

“Top shelf? Did you rearrange the pantry… again?”

May rolls her eyes. “You know, you’re not the only one who’s trying to cope, Pete. You keep pretending like I’m not rearranging our kitchen every other day, and I’ll keep pretending like you’re actually getting some sleep at night.” Peter’s eyes dart to May’s then away, setting his glass down.

The world was still recovering. For Peter, for May, the world had seemingly changed overnight. For those who’d been snapped, the Decimation was something they were still learning about – something that still felt like it was a story from a bad sci-fi movie. But for millions of others, the snap had changed everything; what was a few minutes to the snapped, had been five years for everyone else.

Everyone was struggling with how to get back to normal, to adjust – from both sides – to a world that was so different from the world they had previously known. Peter should’ve been aware that May would be struggling too.

“You knew?”

May gives a half-smile. “Of course, Peter. I may not have known you were Spider-Man, but I always knew something was going on with you.” She takes the few steps needed to close the distance between them, arms extended as Peter lets himself into her embrace.

“I know you miss him, Peter. It’s okay, you know. To miss him. But he’d be so proud of you, be so proud of all the good you’re still doing.” He holds her tight, letting her soothing words pour over him as she runs her hand through his hair.

“You have to take care of yourself, Pete. If not for him, for me. For Ned. MJ.” Peter breaks out of her embrace, sees the smirk on her face.

“MJ? Wha—”

“Don’t think I don’t know that you like her, Pete. I’ve heard how you talk about her.” Peter shakes his head.

“MJ and I are just friends… I mean, she’s great and I… I think…” Peter trails off, but May is undeterred.

“Whatever you are,” she says as she shakes her head, bringing a hand to his chin, “You owe it to yourself to find out. To live.” Her gaze is steady on Peter’s, even as her features soften.

“You and I both know what it’s like to lose someone.” A quiet sadness falls between them, the memory of Ben’s loss never far from either of their memories. But as Peter closes his eyes, May’s forehead leaning on to his, he wills himself to listen to the soft lilt of May’s voice, to not let the grief overtake him once more.

“And you and I both know that we can get through this. That you will get through this.” He sighs as she lets him go, a smile on her face that doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

“You have to try, Peter. Promise me. You’ll try.”

Peter nods. “I will, May.”

May looks at him like she thinks he’s lying.

Peter pretends that he’s not.

* * *

“Dude, did you get the text I sent? We absolutely have to watch the footage today.” Ned’s hands were animated, pointing to the screen of his phone. Peter nods absentmindedly, his thoughts on the exam and whether or not he should grab his calc book or not.

They had a free period, the school still adjusting to the influx of new students. Well, not _new_ students Peter thinks to himself. Formerly dead ones. Dusted. It’d been four months since Tony had saved everyone, since the Hulk had reversed the snap.

While Peter and the rest were undoubtedly glad to be “not-dead”, the aftermath of the world’s missing fifty percent returning was a logistical nightmare.

“Peter, are you even listening?” Peter snaps his eyes back into focus, deciding against the calc book as he turns to Ned.

“Sorry, man, say again?” He smiles as Ned rolls his eyes, babbling again about some new thing Doctor Strange has done. Ned was still enamored with heroes. Peter’s glad someone still is. 

The world may have drastically changed in the past five years, but Peter’s struck with how unchanged Ned had been.

Peter knew that it was wrong of him to be glad that Ned was snapped, knew that it was awful for him to be glad that Ned’s parents had mourned the loss of their son only for him to come back in an instant. But as he listens to his best friend as he excitably chatters on, Peter can't help but feel grateful that even if everything else had changed – Ned hadn’t.

“Sup, losers.” Peter had heard her footsteps before she had arrived, willed himself not to turn until she approached them. He could hear how fast her heart was beating, only paced with how his had seemingly started to race.

“Hey, MJ.” Peter notices the smile on her face, however brief before her face turned back into the stony glare he was used to.

“You got plans for free period?”

Peter shrugs, looking over at Ned. “I don’t know, probably just gonna watch the footage Ned was talking about.”

“You gotta see it, MJ. It’s amazing! Doctor Strange did something INCREDIBLE last night and I—”

Michelle puts a hand up. “Yeah, whatever. I don’t care about all of that. She looks to Peter. “I wanted to talk to you about decathlon. Or whatever the hell they’re calling it now. I don’t know, I’m not even sure if we’re allowed to be a part of it cause technically we’re all 22 now.”

Ned pipes up. “23 actually, my birthday was last month.” Peter laughs.

“Yeah, Ned, she was there.” Ned grins.

“Just clarifying things, I mean. It’s weird being a 17/23-year-old these days.”

Michelle just rolls her eyes. “Whatever, the point is, if we’re actually allowed to do the thing, I think you should be alternate captain.”

“Me?” The look on her face would make Peter believe the she was annoyed, almost bored with the conversation, but Peter can see the corner of her lip lift slightly – a tell that she wanted to smile.

“Yeah, you. I’d ask Ned to be second-alternate, but I think Flash would think I’m just playing favorites.”

“Aren’t you?” Ned asks.

“Yeah, but Flash doesn’t need to know that.”

Ned laughs, and Peter joins him, watching as Michelle’s own mouth forms into a smirk. It was nice, Peter thought, to see her smile.

Well, half-smile.

Peter, Ned and Michelle had started hanging out more in the months after his run-in with Toomes, had fallen right back into place after coming back from the snap. Just like with Ned, Peter was grateful – no matter how awful the past few months had been – that Michelle had been snapped too.

If only because of the quirk of her smile, the way her eyes lit up when Peter walked up, had made Peter’s heart race so fast, he felt like it was going to jump out of his chest.

It was a good feeling, Peter thought. 

May was right, like she always was. He and Michelle might just be friends. But maybe, someday… they could be more.

“Well? I don’t have all day, Parker.” He grins, closing his locker door.

“Yeah, yeah, sounds great MJ. See you in the library then?” She shrugs, seemingly dismissive as she turns away. But even as she walks away, Peter smiles to himself as her heart beats match pace with his.

“You know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think she was flirting with you, Peter.”

“What?” He turns to Ned.

“Liz moved away like, over a year ago. Or… like six years ago I guess. I don’t know. Time is all relative anyway.” He waves his hand. “You know what I mean. Why else would she choose you as alternate captain?”

Peter feels his ears redden, moving away from the locker as Ned follows behind.

“Maybe cause that would piss off Flash the most?” Flash is the one person Peter would've been fine to have learned hadn’t been snapped, had aged out of high school. But Parker luck only gave him so many breaks. 

Ned purses his lip. “True. But still, you see how she just completely ignored me just there? MJ is mean but she’s not rude.” Peter laughs.

“That doesn’t even make sense, Ned.”

“It makes perfect sense, Peter. Look, just cause the world ended and everything doesn’t mean everything is all terrible. Look at me and Betty!” He nudges Peter with his elbow as they walk down the hall.

“I think she likes you, Peter.” Peter glances at Ned then to the library’s entrance.

“And you know… I think you like her too.”

Peter doesn’t answer.

Maybe May was right.

Maybe he should try.

* * *

“Okay Karen, what you got for me?” Peter’s perched on the side of an apartment building, glancing out over to the alleyway as she scans.

“There appears to be some unusual energy readings about ten blocks to your left. Should I contact Dr. Strange?”

“No, Karen. It’s fine. I’ll check it out.” He flicks his hand out, swinging in the direction of where Karen had mentioned.

It’s not that Peter ignored the Avengers… or whatever the hell the rest of the team was calling themselves now. The world had a lot of rebuilding to do, a lot to still recover from, and the team was still a big part of that.

But the idea of bringing them into his daily life, into asking for their help with anything, didn’t sit right with Peter.

He’d had that already, had lost that. Peter wasn’t interested in finding another mentor figure, not when there was still a gaping hole in his heart that Tony Stark had left.

As he swings closer to the place where Karen was directing him, Peter thinks that maybe it was better this way.

Tony had made him an Avenger on that space ship, only for Tony to die just a few hours later. Peter knows that it wasn’t a day, that for everyone else – for Tony – it had been years. But for Peter it had been less than a day. And what had been probably the greatest day of his life quickly turned into the worst when he saw the man he admired most in the world put on that gauntlet and snap his fingers - saving the universe, but wrecking Peter's in the process.

Peter knew that Tony had done an objectively good thing. But all Peter could feel when he thought of that day was the anguish, the pain of seeing once again – someone he loved dying, Peter being powerless to stop it.

“What kind of readings are they, Karen?” Peter asks, pushing the grief down his throat. He’d have time to mourn later, when he inevitably woke up again tonight. For now, he had a job to do.

“It’s unclear, Peter. My scanners are seemingly unable to determine their origin.”

“Their origin? What do you mean, are they alien?” He flips his hand out even quicker, forcing himself to move faster. The panic in the pit of his stomach grows deeper, the fear that maybe there was something still out there, that Tony had died for nothing.

“I cannot say for certain, Peter. Should I contact Dr. Strange? This seems to be more in line with his expertise.”

“No, Karen. I got it, let me just—” He tries to swing faster, narrowly missing colliding with a restaurant sign. His senses start to go haywire, the dread in his stomach turning into full-on panic.

“Peter, your heart rate just increased by twenty beats per minute. I would strongly advise you to turn around.”

“It’s fine, Karen. I got it. I’m almost there.” Peter ignores the panic, ignores Karen’s warnings, because now – he can see it.

It almost looks like a mirage, the air just slightly rippling over itself. If Karen hadn't told him it was real, he would've thought it was just his imagination - his brain playing tricks on him for his lack of sleep.

Peter wondered why no one else was looking at it, why no one else seemed to have noticed. He doesn’t have time to question anything further because his senses start to scream at him.

He feels it before he sees it, the crack of lightning and a spark of something foreign seemingly directed right at him. Peter yelps, jumping to avoid it, only to get struck with another one.

As he starts to fall to the ground, Karen’s voice ringing in the background, all Peter can think of is that if this was it, if he just let go – that maybe be could see Tony again. 

At the last second, a split-second, May’s words from earlier are at the forefront.

_You have to try, Peter. Promise me. You’ll try._

He swings out a web, barely catching himself as he falls, skidding across the ground.

“Shit.” Peter stumbles as he gets up, looking up at the shimmering mirage thing. Now that he’s on the ground, he can see why everyone wouldn’t notice it. From this angle, it seemed almost like a mirror, like the reflective panels on Tony’s plane.

There’s something sinister about it though, something otherworldly. Peter puts a hand to his side, wincing as he walks forward.

“Karen, what is that?”

“Peter, you seem to have broken two ribs. I would strongly advise you to seek medical attention. Shall I alert Bruce Banner?”

“No Karen, just—stop with the medical stuff for now alright? I know, I’ll deal with it later. I want to know what’s happening with THAT.” He points, knowing Karen doesn’t need the gesture but he’s frustrated.

If Karen responds, Peter doesn’t hear it.

It’s like fire, the lightning – a spark, white-hot and blinding – as it him straight on. He cries out in pain, cursing at himself for not jumping back out of the line of fire.

Peter didn’t know if it was sentient, didn’t know who was behind it.

Peter doesn’t know if he hits the ground, doesn’t know if anyone has called for help.

All Peter knows is that he’s falling, falling…

The darkness over takes him.

Until Peter doesn’t know anything at all.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told myself that as soon as I finished the [It’s Quiet Uptown](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1345588) series, that I’d take a break… would focus more on cute stuff, like my 5+1 with [ Peter & MJ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18896770/chapters/44855035). 
> 
> And then THIS idea popped into my head. So now I have this chapter, a 15 page outline, and the wild notion that I can actually attempt a multi-chaptered story. 
> 
> If you want to blame anyone – I certainly do – blame [blondsak](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blondsak/pseuds/blondsak) because she not only motivated me to write this but gave inspiration for the title. THANK YOU AND YOU’RE WELCOME AND ALSO WHY. 
> 
> Let me know what you think. I love people screaming at me on [tumblr](https://seek-tumblr.com).


	2. Another World.

_Lines of purples. Green. Deep blues. It’s everywhere. Peter is everywhere._

_Glimpses. May’s laughter. Tony’s scream. MJ crying. Peter can’t make sense of it, it’s everywhere, the feeling of it – the emotions, the agony, the joy, and the pain._

_Peter is falling, tumbling endlessly through the darkness, the light, it’s everywhere._

_Peter is everywhere._

_His head turns, he thinks it turns. Is there movement? Is he moving? All he knows is falling, falling endlessly through and around. Peter turns, searching, grasping. The darkness is there. The light is everywhere. Peter can’t take it. It’s too much. It’s everywhere. He’s everywhere._

_And then Peter is nowhere at all._

Peter’s eyes snap open, immediately aware of the cold ground beneath him. He groans as he comes to, his head aching with what he assumes is a concussion.

“Karen?” His voice croaks out, surprising himself at how broken it sounds.

“Peter, are you alright? You have been unconscious for the past ten minutes.” He opens his eyes, his mask focusing up on where the mirage looking thing had been. He can’t see anything, but his vision is a little blurry. He blinks a few times to focus.

His senses are quiet now, muted, focused solely on the pain he feels throughout his body.

“Anything broken?” He grimaces as he wiggles his toes, his fingers, cautiously trying to sit up.

“You had previously said that you would deal with medical later. Shall I continue or has later arrived?” He rolls his eyes. Karen was a great AI, but she was also created by Tony Stark. He should’ve expected that Tony’s sass in her programming would show up eventually.

“Yes Karen, your sarcasm is noted. Tell me now.”

“Along with your two broken ribs and a previously sprained ankle from your fall, you also appear to have a mild concussion.”

Huh, he hadn’t noticed the ankle. Karen seems to pick up on this.

“In the time you were unconscious, your ankle has appeared to have mended itself. However, your ribs may acquire medical attention. Should I let Bruce Banner know that you will be on your way?” Peter lifts himself up from the ground, holding back the yelp that almost escaped him.

“No, no… the Compound is too far. By the time I’d get there, my ribs would already be half-healed. I’ll just head home, sleep it off.”

“Peter, I would strongly advi—”

“Yeah, I know Karen I get it. Can you just plot me the quickest path home?”

Karen is silent, Peter a little dizzy. He’s not sure if she’s computing or trying to find a way to circumvent a direct order. Peter knows he's being stupid, knows he should get checked out. But there's a slight buzzing in his head, an exhaustion weighing on him that he can't name. Peter just wants to sleep. 

“Take the street to your left, Peter. You should arrive back home in twenty minutes.” Peter can sense the resignation in her voice, if she was capable of that. As Peter swings away, it occurs to him that he hadn’t even checked to see if the mirage thing was still there. He turns his head for a quick look, but it only confirms what his senses had when he had woken back up.

The rippling, mirage thing was gone.

* * *

He texts Ned, cancelling their movie plans. While Peter never usually let an injury prevent him from continuing on in whatever he had planned – to the chagrin of nearly everyone in his life who knew he was Spider-Man – something about the afternoon’s events has left him feeling… odd.

There’s soreness from the fall, the pain from his ribs still aching. But there’s also a feeling of… something. Even though he hasn’t had a good night’s sleep since the night before he boarded that bus, all Peter can think of is the sweet release and possibility of sleep.

As Peter climbs into his bedroom through his window, there’s a part of his addled brain that registers that this is a bad idea – that going to sleep when he had a concussion was probably the exact _opposite_ of what he was supposed to be doing. But as he strips off his suit, not even bothering to close the window, Peter’s overwhelmed with how exhausted he is.

 _I’m just tired, I haven’t slept. I just need to sleep. Just for a few minutes, I just need to sleep._ Peter thinks to himself, lowering himself into bed, using only a sheet to cover himself. He’s shivering yet still feels like he’s burning up on the inside. Peter turns to his side, curling up in the fetal position.

There’s something wrong, something wrong with him – he can feel it, but before Peter lets himself consider this – he feels himself drifting.

For the first time in four months, Peter immediately falls asleep. 

* * *

He’s awake.

Or at least, he thinks he is.

Peter looks around, confused and a little on edge. He was just in his room, what was he doing here?

He’s outside, in Queens. But… it’s different. There’s trash everywhere, cars are abandoned and rusted. An overgrowth of grass taking over Mr. Delmar’s shop. If Peter didn’t know any better, it almost looked like something of an apocalyptic movie scene.

 _Am I dreaming?_ He walks forward, focusing on the sounds around him. As he glances around, there’s a nudge in the back of his mind that’s telling him that there’s something that he’s missing, something obvious that he’s not recognizing.

He passes by a newsstand and grabs a _Bugle_. The cover page story is irrelevant, some local political scandal. He sets the newspaper down and looks around. Whatever happened here, happened awhile ago. The grass, the moss, the trash that had accumulated and decayed – it had to have been here for months, if not years.

And yet whatever had happened, happened suddenly – so much so, that the news didn’t even get the chance to report on it.

The hair on the back of his neck sticks up and Peter whirls around, eyes darting to see where the danger is. But there’s nothing there.

Peter’s senses are still screaming at him – DANGER DANGER DANGER – and yet, for the life of him he can’t see anything, he doesn’t see anybody.

And that’s when it hits him. The thing that he’s missing, the thing that’s been right in front of him.

There’s no one here.

He hasn’t seen anyone, there’s no signs of life anywhere – but with Peter’s hearing, he should be able to hear from an incredible distance, to detect conversations and breathing miles away from where he’s standing.

It hits him like he’s been sucker-punched, so much so that he almost stumbles.

Aside from his own breathing, from his heart beat thundering in his own years – Peter can’t hear anything, or anyone else, at all.

He closes his eyes, willing himself to focus. To listen. Ned had asked once if he had ever tested it, had pushed to see the range of his hearing and Peter had always declined. He appreciated how eager Ned was for Peter to explore his powers, to know the full range of what he could do.

But the thought of actually taking in all that information, the sensory overload – just the idea of it overwhelmed him.

Peter feels panicked now, forcing himself to listen – _really_ listen and test his boundaries for the first time.

But as he listens, scrunching his eyes tighter to will himself to hear something – anything – at all, Peter already knows the answer.

There’s no one here. No one.

The city of New York is empty.

* * *

“Okay. Okay. Calm down, Parker. Think. What do you do? Focus.” Peter rambles to himself, hands trembling as he tries to calm down.

There was no one in New York. No one. He wishes with all that was within him now, that he had a better sense of how far his hearing could go. What if there were people and he just couldn’t hear them?

_What if they are underground? Did everyone evacuate? Where is everyone?_

Peter walks, a few steps until it turns into a jog. He’s looking, listening, searching everywhere for something. For anything.

By the time he’s hit the next block, he’s in a full-on sprint – not even trying to hold down the panic.

_Where is everyone? Where is everybody? Where did everybody go?_

As he runs, another thing occurs to him.

He hasn’t heard any birds.

The idea stops him in his tracks, stumbling over himself as he slows down. He looks up to the sky, frantic, looks to the trash.

No mice. No pigeons. Peter can’t even hear the buzzing of insects.

He can’t breathe now, the panic and anxiety overwhelming him.

In the early days, when he first got his powers, Peter used to dream of a world without all the noise. Before he managed to create his first goggles, before Stark’s suit, it used to take everything that he had to focus on the world around him – the sensory overload had been too much.

Now – hearing nothing, feeling nothing – Peter has never felt more alone.

* * *

He runs to his apartment. There’s no one there. He knew this would be the case, knew he wouldn’t find anyone. But knowing it and seeing it are another thing entirely.

He runs straight to his bedroom door, closing it and the window. He can’t take the silence, but Peter can only hope this is just a dream.

A vivid, terrifying nightmare.

He crawls into his bed, assuming the same position that he did before. Closes his eyes and covers his ears, not to block out noise but to listen to the one within. As his heartbeat hammers in his ears, the thudding of it the only thing keeping him sane - the only sound he can hear - all Peter can hope is that he wakes up.

_Please wake up. Wake up. Please wake up._

* * *

He wakes up in a panic, screaming. May rushing into his bedroom.

“Peter? Are you alright?” Peter’s already sobbing before she can answer, clamoring out of bed and rushing to her. He holds on to her tight, letting the tears fall down his face.

“May. You’re here. You’re here.” She returns his embrace, Peter noting the confusion in her voice.

“Of course, I’m here, Peter. Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

Peter shakes his head, willing the nightmare of being alone to be rid of him.

“N-nothing. Just a bad dream. I just… I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Oh Peter, of course. Of course, I’m here. I should’ve known that tonight would be rough for you.”

There’s something in the tone of her voice that bothers him, his senses telling him that the nightmare isn’t over.

“Wh-what? What do you mean?” He looks up at May’s voice, confused at the look of concern… sorrow, almost.

“Peter… I know it’s been a hard day, it’s been hard on all of us.” She puts a hand to his chin, the gesture comforting at any other moment if not for Peter’s senses going haywire.

“I don’t… I don’t understand.”

“Peter, I know it’s hard, but we’ve talked about this. You and I both know what it’s like to lose someone. And you and I both know that we can get through this. That you will get through this.” The memory of May’s words returns to him, but they seem foreign coming of her mouth now. 

“What are you talking about?” He backs up from May, suddenly hesitant to believe that he was actually awake. That this was May after all.

“Peter. Come on sweetheart, I know this is difficult…”

“What’s difficult? What are you not telling me?”

“Peter. This isn’t funny, I know you’re going through a tough time kiddo, but denial isn’t the right move here, Pete. I want to help, whatever you need. You just to let me, kiddo.”

“Denial? About what?” A look passes through May’s face, first of confusion but then… questioning.

“Peter, are you alright? There’s something… not right about you. I told Stark that we should’ve had you meet with that therapist, I don’t know why I let him talk me out of postponing it.”

Her words hit Peter like a sledgehammer.

“Stark? Tony? Tony Stark? You talked to him? When? How…?” If May was confused before, she’s bewildered now.

“Yes… we talked today. He was there today, remember?” A sad smile on her face. “Ned would’ve loved that, I think. I’m glad Tony could make it.”

“Ned? What does this have to do with Ned? Tony’s here? Tony’s alive?”

The look on May’s face cuts through Peter, a mix of shock and… something.

“Peter, what are you not telling me? Are you okay? Do you really not remember where we were today?” A part of him considers lying, the look of distraught on May’s face giving him pause. But his senses, his confusion, won’t let him.

“No. I don’t know what’s going on. I don’t… tell me, May. What happened?”

Her face crumples just a bit before she firmly presses her lips together.

“Peter…”

“Just tell me, May. What happened? Is it Tony? How is he alive? And what does that have to do with Ned?”

May pauses, taking a breath – almost to steady herself.

“I don’t know what’s going on with you, Peter but Stark - Tony - is very much alive. You know this. He was there with you today.”

The sense of dread churns in his stomach. He knows the words she’s going to say before she says them.

“He was with you… at Ned’s funeral. We buried Ned today, sweetheart. Do you really not remember?”

* * *

Agony. The aching. It’s immediate, to the point where doubles over, May only barely catching him.

“What happened? What… I don’t understand. I don’t understand.” May holds him in her arms, rocking him gently as the sobs pour out of him.

“I’m so sorry sweetheart, I know. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

Peter’s hands are trembling, his whole being shaking.

Ned was dead.

This can’t be true.

This couldn’t be true.

Peter’s eyes snap open.

_This isn’t real._

* * *

May takes his silence as a respite, helping him back into bed. She pulls the covers over him, giving a soft kiss on his forehead before smoothing back his hair.

“I’m so sorry, Peter. I know, I know how hard this has to be for you. But you can’t give up, Peter. You can’t give up.”

Peter already knows what she’s going to say next.

“You have to try, Peter. Promise me. You’ll try.”

He nods. “I will, May. I’m… just tired now. I’m just really tired.” Peter's voice is calm, but his mind is racing.  _Ned is dead. Ned can't be dead. Tony's alive. This isn't real. This can't be real._

_Is this real?_

She waits, seemingly debating whether she believes him or not. When she gets up, Peter is relieved.

“I’ll be right outside, Peter. Anything you need, we’re here for you. All of us. Stark too.” She walks to his bedroom door.

“Try and get some sleep, kiddo. Don’t worry about school tomorrow. I already called ahead. They understand.”

_They understand. Because Ned is dead. Ned is dead._

_This isn’t real._

As she closes the bedroom door, something sparks within him.

_This isn’t real._

_But what if Tony’s still here._

Before Peter can get up, can try and grab his phone from his nightstand, the room is suddenly bright – white hot and blinding. It’s familiar to Peter but also unknown.

Before he can even think of what to do next, Peter is thrown into the darkness once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is short, I know I'm sorry. I had a lot to do this week. Don't worry, I got the whole thing planned out and have written like 5 chapters already. I'm hoping to post at least once a week - the more I sketch out, the more excited I get about this. Hope you kids are ready, Peter's gonna go on a wild ride. 
> 
> I love people screaming at me on [tumblr](http://seek-rest.tumblr.com).


	3. Undergrowth.

Peter’s eyes snap open.

He’s awake.

He can hear May in the kitchen again, hear the steady breathing of the neighbor above him. The bed sheets around him are slick with sweat. The ambiance of the city is pouring in, his window still open.

He sits up in bed, immediately regretting the quickness of the movement.

“Ah… shit.” He puts a hand to his forehead. The buzzing from his phone would’ve already annoyed him but it’s made even worse with his pounding headache. He glances at the notification before stopping short.

 **guyinthechair:** dude r u still sick? I can come over and we can watch a move there if u want.

Peter lets out a choked laugh, the relief overwhelming. He was back. _Really._ He’s awake. Ned was alive.

 _Tony is dead_.

Peter stops, that surge of joy dissipating just as quickly as it had come.

He grabs the phone, searches for the truth he can already feel. He scrolls through social media, confirming the truth.

Tony is dead.

Peter is awake.

Whatever journey he had gone on, was over.

_Maybe not._

Minding himself to not make noise, Peter quickly slips back into the suit. He leans out of his window sill, listening to May as she talks to herself about some recipe she’s making.

He considers telling her what just happened, knowing that she’d asked him to keep him in the loop of any strange things – considering that the last time he’d jumped into something without talking to her, he had ended up becoming dust on another world.

Peter pauses for just a moment. Then makes a decision.

He swings his hand out, leaving his bedroom just as quietly as he had arrived.

* * *

“Hello Peter, I still detect some bruising from your ribs. Would you like for me to ask for a car to be sent to take you the compound?”

“Karen, we’ve talked about this. I don’t need a car. Just… give me directions back to where I was before, with the shimmering mirage looking thing.”

Karen is silent, but Peter is insistent, trying to retrace his path from memory even as his head still pounds.

“You are now less than fifteen minutes away, Peter.”

He swings, willing himself to move quicker, but he can only go so fast. In the time it takes for him to get back to the… thing, Peter thinks.

He’d slept. It was a dream. It was a terrible, awful nightmare.

_But what if it wasn’t? What if it wasn’t a dream?_

Peter’s not even sure what he’s hoping to find, what he’s thinking that can be done. He dreamed of a world where Stark was alive… but Ned was dead. The thought of that pangs him, even now as he knows Ned is alive, still texting about their movie.

He’d also dreamt – _was it a dream?_ – of a world that was silent. Dead. Peter had been alone.

Peter used to have terrible dreams growing up, nightmares that would cause Ben and May to rush to his room and shake him awake. But even in all those dreams, Peter never once felt that they were as real as what he had just encountered.

He’d dreamt twice. Two different nightmares, yet so similar. Peter can’t shake the feeling that they weren’t just nightmares, not just dreams.

They weren’t real. They couldn’t be real.

_But what if they were?_

As he lands on the building next to where the mirage thing had been, Peter wonders what had caused it.

“Alright, I’m here Karen but I don’t see anything. Where is it?”

“There does not appear to be any energy readings here, Peter.”

Peter looks then sighs. “Well, where did it go Karen?”

“Where it went is no longer of concern for you, Peter.”

Peter’s head whirls around to face him, recognizing the voice before he sees him.

Doctor Strange. He’s standing on the roof, seemingly appearing out of nowhere. Peter turns his whole body to face him.

“What.. how did you get here? What’s going on? Do you know what that mirage thing was?”

He can see Strange’s purse his lips before saying, “Mirage… an interesting choice of words.”

“Whatever, you know what the hell that was?” Peter’s exasperated, annoyed at Strange’s presence even as his curiosity reminds him that if he wants answers, maybe he should be kinder.

Peter used to be in awe of Doctor Strange’s powers, the knowledge that even though he may have been bit by a radioactive spider – that there were people out there who actually dabbled in the unreal, the stuff of sci-fi movies. He and Ned used to geek out about it, the magic that Strange wielded. In another life, Peter would be thrilled that Strange was here, could explain what was going on.

But then Strange – in all his infinite wisdom and magic – had somehow deemed that a world where Tony Stark dies was the only way – the one way – to save their universe.

Peter could’ve cared less about him after that.

“I do. But as I said, it is no longer of any concern for you.” Peter grimaces, knowing that Strange can’t see it under his mask.

“Yeah, I think I can decide that for myself. Look, I know this magic crap is your business, but I just got zapped by the thing, so I think I have a right to know what’s going on.”

Strange’s head tilts and before Peter could say anything, suddenly he’s right in front of him.

“You’ve suffered a temporal displacement didn’t you?”

“I—what?”

He does something with his hands, moving them over Peter – locking him into place. “Hey, hey what are you doing?”

“Shhh…”

“Don’t shhh me you –” But then, Peter’s mask is off. His mouth is snapped closed, eyes darting back and forth as Strange waves his hands around. He recognizes the motion, similar to what he had done on the alien planet – before they had joined Stark and the rest of them back on earth. The memory of that day cuts through Peter once more.

“Hmmm. Interesting.” Peter’s released, letting out a gasp of air.

“What? What’s interesting? You really going to unmask me in public?” Peter pants, his head feeling like someone had just knocked around the inside of it. From the look of Strange’s face, maybe he had. Peter’s suddenly exhausted, almost stumbles as he picks up his mask.

“It seems as if your encounter with the, ‘mirage’ as you call it, let you see glimpses of other futures. Of other worlds. But no matter, I’ve taken care of it. And your identity is safe, Peter. No one around can see us.”

“Other-other worlds? What are you talking about?”

Strange seems to consider him, debating something. Peter just looks at him, still panting from the effects of whatever Strange had done. When Strange speaks again, Peter notices the resignation on his face.

“The universe exists in a delicate balance, an endless symphony of decisions and consequences. What many don’t understand is that our universe is just that… ours. There are infinite possibilities, infinite worlds beyond our own.”

“You’re… you’re saying there’s a multiverse?”

Strange nods.

“So… what does this mean? What was that thing? Was it, like a portal or something?”

“Something like that. You weren’t far off with the use of the phrase ‘mirage’.” Dr. Strange turns, motioning his hands in a semi-circle. Peter’s taken aback at the of light that come off of him.

A strand appears out of nowhere, glimmering and bright. Dr. Strange motions for him to come closer.

“The ‘mirage’ as you call it, was a rift. A temporal opening where our universe has started to bleed in with the others. After the reversal, there have been several of these that have been popping up over the city, over the world.”

As quickly as the strand appears, another appears, then several – all intersecting with it in a way that sets off sparks.

Peter steps back and Strange smirks. “Familiar, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, I… last time something sparked like that, I got zapped. Had some crazy dreams.”

“They weren’t dreams, Peter. They were realities, other worlds changed only slightly from our own.” Peter blinks then turns to Strange.

“You’re saying, those dreams – they were real? Tony’s _alive_?”

Strange nods, a look of sadness on his face. “In some realities. Just as in others, your friend Edward is not. Or May.” Strange considers him then says, “Or even you, Peter.”

Peter isn’t sure what to do with this information. A part of him knew that his dreams felt real – _too real_ – to just be a dream. But there’s a nagging sense that there’s something more, something that Strange isn’t telling him.

“I don’t understand. If these rifts keep opening, is reality just… malleable or something? Are we in the matrix?”

Strange’s mouth turns into something like a scowl. “I know you’re smarter than this, Peter. What part of this don’t you understand?”

He can hear the edge in Strange’s voice, Peter returning it with his own.

“What I _don’t_ understand, is why if this is true – if there’s a shit-ton of realities out there – why did you choose for us to live in this one?”

The question is there without Peter asking. Strange recognizes this, the fire in Peter’s eyes.

_If what you’re saying is true, why did Tony have to die?_

* * *

 

Strange is silent. Peter is fuming. They stare at each other, Peter refusing to let himself to be the first one to break the silence.

It was Strange’s fault they were in this mess. Strange was the one who gave up the time stone, who said that there was only _one_ possibility for them to win.

Dust. The pain of it, it still haunted Peter’s nights. In the dead of the night, when his mind wasn’t running through the image of Tony snapping of his fingers, of dying right in front of him – his mind went back there, to an alien planet when Peter had felt every moment of his death.

Stark’s hands over him, the panic in eyes, his voice, Peter had felt his body disintegrate. It had hurt, was so painful. In conversations with Ned, reading things online – no one remembered the snap, no one remembered how it felt to come back.

But Peter did.

The returning. The battle immediately after. Peter couldn’t reconcile this information with what Strange was hinting at. If there were realities and worlds beyond them, if there were _multiple_ timelines to choose from – what could have possibly been the reason for Strange to say that this one – the one where Tony Stark is dead – was the _best_ one?

In what universe was it okay for Peter to feel – deeply, _painfully_ – his very existence crumbling in Tony’s arms?

* * *

 

Strange is immovable, Peter recognizing the look as someone who was far more calculating and colder than he. For all of his stubbornness, Peter’s the first one to break.

“Whatever, just—tell me, tell me how to open it back up. I want to see what’s out there. I need to…” Peter trails off.  

“You are not in any position to do so, Peter. Your encounter with the rift was an accident, something that never should’ve occurred.” He turns to walk away but Peter steps in front of him.

“An _accident?_ How can you say that? What if it was meant? It’s like it was destiny. Like, the universe was letting me know that there’s a chance… that I could… I can…” His hands are shaking at the possibility.

Peter could go in time; the rift had shown him two possibilities – _nightmares_ – but what if there were more? Better ones. Life had given Peter a shit hand to begin with.

If there were more worlds out there, more realities he could see – he could find another one. Find one where he didn’t feel himself go to his dust.

Another world where his parents, where Ben hadn’t left.

Another place where Tony Stark hadn’t died.

“I’m afraid that’s impossible, Peter. As I said, you were never supposed to encounter the rift. This was an error on my part, I thought I had closed the last one in New York last night.”

It hits Peter then, that this was the footage that Ned was talking about – the magical happenings that he’d ignored. Peter’s frustrated with himself for not paying better attention, but he can’t think about that now.

“Look, I get your whole deal is finding these things and closing them and whatever, but I—I can handle it. I just need to see Strange, I need to know.”

Peter’s caught off guard with the severity of Strange’s next words.

“No, Peter. You don’t need to know. You _cannot_ handle it. Your exposure to the rift resulted in a temporal displacement, something that would’ve killed anyone else without your abilities. Your mind was so distorted when you arrived, had I not reset your astral body – your mind would’ve been lost to the timelines you encountered. Constantly shifting until you were comatose.” He waves his hands, pushing Peter away.

“You will not find another rift, Peter.”

Peter’s fists clench. “If you don’t help me, I’ll find it on my own.”

Strange stops and turns to Peter. Peter’s not expecting the look of remorse on his face.

“I wish I could help you, Peter. Truly, I do. This universe has not been so kind to you.” His eyes harden. “But you will not find another rift.”

“Like hell I wo—”

“I’ve severed your ties to the rift. You’re bound to this earth now, this timeline. There’s nothing you can do, Peter. It’s done.”

Peter’s fist unclenches, his mind not understanding. “You—what, what did you do? Anchor me here?”

“In a manner of speaking. You will not only be blinded to the rifts but would be unable to pass through them. So long as I am alive, you will not leave this timeline Peter.”

Peter doesn’t know what to say. He’s furious, angry that Strange would prevent him from seeing, from even _trying_ to see what’s out there. Furious still that Strange thinks he can make such a decision for him.

“So, what? I’m tied to you now or something? Who the hell asked you Strange? You’re not my keeper.”

Strange just takes this in. A beat.

“No. But I promised myself, promised Tony – that I would not let harm come to you.”

Peter stops, the mention of Tony Stark an ever-present pain.

“You don’t get to say his name.” Peter hisses, the tears forming in his eyes before he can stop them. Strange sadly nods.

“I understand that you feel this way, Peter. But it’s been decided. No harm will come to you.” He waves his hands and before Peter can say anything else, Strange is gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no patience so this chapter is going up today. Next chapter will be up by next weekend, just needed to get the ball rolling because clearly I have no regard for normal posting schedules.
> 
> Comments literally make my day, feel free to scream at me!


	4. Ages and Ages.

Peter was furious.

Strange – the _audacity_ of this man – teased him with the possibility of a difference, of a _life –_ multiple ones – just to take it away. He thinks of Strange’s words, fuming on the rooftop as he pulls his mask over his face.

_“I promised myself, promised Tony – that I would not let harm come to you.”_

What the hell did that even mean? As Peter flicks a hand out, rushing himself to Ned’s apartment, Peter wonders how Strange could’ve promised Tony anything.

Strange and Tony had what, twenty minutes of interaction? Thirty? The memory of their argument on the alien ship still rattled around in his brain, the tension between the two.

Strange had said that if it came between him or the kid – between Tony and Peter – and the stone, Strange would’ve offered them up in a heartbeat. But when the time came, Strange had saved Tony – given the stone to Thanos without a second’s thought.

As he closes in on Ned’s neighborhood, asking Karen to text Ned – it hits him that Strange had to have known.

Strange had saved Tony, but only because Tony couldn’t have died then. He had to die later, with the gauntlet. A sick game, morbid – it reminded Peter of the idiotic plan that Dumbledore had in Harry Potter.

_“You have kept him alive so that he can die at the right moment?”_

That line had always bothered him, in the books and the movies. Even before Peter had powers, he couldn’t have fathomed using someone – saving someone – only so that they could die.

But this wasn’t fiction. Harry Potter had come back to life.  

Tony hadn’t.

And if Strange had his way, he would stay that way.

But Peter had other plans.

* * *

“Dude, what? I thought you were sick, wait shit – hold on!” Ned whispered, opening up his window as Peter crawled in. He landed softly on Ned’s floor, Ned running over to close his bedroom door.

“Ned, what do you know about the multiverse?”

“I—what?”

“Answer me.” Peter’s voice is firm, eyes glistening as he takes his mask off. Ned’s mouth is slightly open, taking in Peter’s appearance.

Peter knows he’s being too threatening, his voice too angry and directed to someone who didn’t deserve it. Peter wills himself to calm down, to take a deep breath.

Ned is on his side. Ned is his best friend.

“Uhh, well – do you want the quantum theory perspective or like, _Star Trek_?”

Peter waves his hands. “Whatever, just – it’s real, Ned”

Ned’s confused. “It’s… real? What are you talking about, Peter?

“The multiverse. It’s real. At least, that’s what Strange says.”

Ned’s mouth opens, in shock and a little in awe. “Wait, wait, wait, you talked to Doctor Strange? Doctor Stephen Strange, the Sorcerer Supreme!? DUDE. Why didn’t you call me?”

Peter tries hard not to roll his eyes, to not offend Ned when he needs his help.

“I’m talking to you now, Ned. Tell me. What do you know?” Ned shakes his head, trying to focus.

“Okay, okay, well. It all depends. I mean, some people like to say that there’s like, multiple timelines based on decisions right? Like one day, if I chose to have a peanut butter sandwich instead of a ham sandwich, like that suddenly causes the apocalypse or something you know?” Peter nods, waiting for Ned to continue.

“Other people, like, believe that it’s more of a science thing. Like our world is just running parallel to a bunch of other worlds, that it’s not really like decisions but more like… a predictability thing you know?”

Peter’s tapping his fingers to his leg, perched on the edge of Ned’s bed.

_If it’s a decision, Strange made it. Chose to sacrifice Tony for no damn reason at all. But if it’s a parallel, a ratio thing – maybe there’s a way to figure it out. Maybe there’s a way to science the shit out of it._

_Strange had said he’d closed it, closed the last rift, but what does he know? Tying himself to me? What the hell does that even mean? I could ask Wanda, she’d know what to do._

Peter’s thoughts get away from him, only brought back by Ned waving a hand to his face.

“Peter… are you okay? What’s wrong?”

Peter looks at Ned, suddenly overwhelmed with the presence of his friend.

Here he was thinking of getting back to that universe – the one universe he knew of, at least where Tony wasn’t dead. But it was also a universe where Ned had died. A world that Peter truly couldn’t fathom living in.

* * *

Ned Leeds had been Peter’s best friend since he was seven years old.

Since the minute he’d walked into their elementary school classroom, since the very second Ned had made it his mission to make him laugh – Peter was convinced he’d never have as great a friend as Ned Leeds.

And he’d been right.

Ned had been there as his right-hand man when he was first starting out, the absolute best guy in the chair.

Ned listened to Peter as he talked about his patrols, offered advice on what Peter could do next, served as his ultimate defender against Flash.

Flash was a dick. Peter thought it would’ve gotten better after the snap but if anything, the end of the world just made Flash worse.

None of his other school friends ever really seemed to care about him, the friends who were still around anyway.

Except MJ. But Peter wondered if they would really be considered friends anymore… the not necessarily weird, but growing tension between them making him feel so much like those months he’d spent blissfully enamored with Liz.

Peter didn’t know what to make of it. They were friends, sure. But they also _weren’t_ friends. Maybe friends was the wrong concept. Peter didn’t know.

But Ned. Ned was his friend. His _best_ friend.

He’d been there for Peter during homecoming, had distracted the kids on that bus.

He’d even been there in the after, when the world had ended, and Peter had once again, lost someone important in his life.

Peter told Ned almost everything.

Almost.

As he searches his friend’s eyes, seeing the concern and the worry in them, Peter realizes that he can’t bring Ned into this.

* * *

Peter had told Ned about Titan, shared about the battle and about Tony dying.

But the pain of the dusting, the feeling as Peter had crumbled away… the agony of watching the light go out in Tony’s eyes.

Peter hadn’t told Ned about that.

Even when Ben had died, he hadn’t shared with Ned what it felt like – to hold on to someone as they died. As their life literally faded from your hands.

It had broke Peter, kept him up at night for years. Broke him again after watching it a second time.

Peter hadn’t slept well at all since Tony died.

He couldn’t do that to Ned.

“It’s… nothing. Nothing, Ned.” Peter feels the fight leak out of him, the sadness closing in on him once more as he looks away.

How could he be so ready to run, jump, fly into another universe – the only one he knows for sure that Tony’s alive in – when that same universe means Ned is dead?

He can’t do that Ned, even if Peter knows that in some way – it’s already done.

There’s a universe out there where Peter’s Ned is dead, a Peter who has to live without him.

Even the idea of being around Tony – of being around Tony Stark once again – can’t remove the pain that cuts through Peter in thinking about a world without Ned.

“It’s not nothing, Peter.” Peter’s head glances up, surprised at the hurt in Ned’s voice. He can see Ned’s chin tremble as he continues.

“You… I know you’re going through a lot, Peter. I know it’s been hard for you.” Ned almost sounds as if he’s speaking from a script, like he had psyched himself up to say this. As he keeps speaking, Peter wonders if maybe he had.

“I want to be here for you Peter, but it’s like… there’s stuff you’re not telling me. And I can’t, I can’t _be_ your guy in the chair if you don’t let me, you know? Especially when you come in to my room after cancelling our movie night, interrogating me about what I know about the multiverse.”

“It wasn’t an interrogation, Ned.”

“It sure as hell felt like it, Peter!” Ned’s voice firm, raising for a second before glancing to the door. They’re both quiet – waiting, until Peter can hear Ned’s mom humming in the kitchen. He nods and Ned sighs.

“I don’t know what to tell you, man. I don’t know a lot about multiverses or why you want to know about them.” He puts a hand to Peter’s shoulder.

“But like, I _want_ to help you. You know that right? You’re my best friend, Pete.” Peter smiles, bringing Ned into a fierce hug. Ned’s arms enclose around him, Peter resting his head on Ned’s shoulders.

The relief is intoxicating, the fact that Ned is alive. That Ned isn’t dead. This shitty universe may have killed every father figure that Peter had ever known in his life, but at least in this one – he still had Ned.

He couldn’t risk losing him too.

* * *

The next few days pass uneventfully.

Well, as uneventfully as they always did for Peter.

He’d saved some people from robberies. Got a cat from some building fire. Almost actually tripped when trying to fake trip for Flash’s benefit.

He can’t get his conversation with Strange out of his mind. The firmness of his tone, the way he had looked at Peter, almost sad at what he was saying.

There was an anger simmering under the surface. A frustration and a hurt.

May had noticed, almost immediately that something was wrong. Ned had tried – unsuccessfully – to get Peter to talk to him more about what had happened.

But he couldn’t. There was nothing to say. Nothing he could do.

Peter could feel it.

The rift was gone.

* * *

He’d gone around the city, swinging around in the hopes of finding something – anything similar to the rift. He’s not even sure if he wants to find it, the pain of whatever he had gone through still at the forefront of his memory.

Just like the dusting. Like the coming back.

Peter’s travel through time, space or whatever – it had hurt too.

There’s a sense of feeling locked in place though, that Peter can’t shake. Even as he flings himself off the highest buildings, feels the air rush past him until he swings a hand out to catch him before he falls, there’s a feeling in his gut that it doesn’t matter what he looks for, no matter how hard he searches.

Just like how he felt when he left the cabin’s dock all those months ago.

Even if Peter could figure out a way, could find some other universe…

There are no more rifts in New York.

Peter’s chance of ever seeing Tony again are gone.

* * *

Day in.

Day out.

Peter’s almost listless as he goes through the rest of the school year.

The snap, the _decimation_ , whatever the hell it was supposed to be, had really changed their world. They were in new buildings now, teachers and students trying to grasp what exactly they were supposed to do now.

Technically, Peter should be well into his early twenties now – should’ve already graduated college. As it stood, he was instead searching for what to do. For what’s next. What he should do next.

Tony had mentioned MIT to him once, had not so subtly pushed the idea of Peter attending his alma mater one night in the lab. As Ned rambles on in the library, MJ’s nose burrowed deep in a book, Peter smiles at the memory.

* * *

“Hey kid, where do you see yourself in the next five years?” Peter’s head snapped up, goggles askew with the motion.

It had been only a few weeks before the end of everything. Before Peter’s world had once again, changed forever.

“Uh… to be honest, Mr. Stark, I’m still trying to figure out where I’m going to be in the next five minutes. You know, this prototype could probably zap me into the next century or whatever right?”

Tony’s hand had waved dismissively. “Nah, kid it’ll at most shock you into next week, but that’s not the point. I’m talking about the future, kid. The real future. Where you see yourself going to college? I got some prime real estate up in Boston I think you’d like to see.”

Peter’s eyebrows had furrowed, confused but also smiling.

“Boston? You trying to scout me out for MIT, or something?”

Tony had only smiled. “I’m just saying, kid. You could do worse than a school with over a billion-dollar endowment, world-renowned faculty, and might I add – prolific alumni.”

“Oh definitely, I mean going to the same school is Ivan Drago? Amazing.”

Tony’s head had snapped in Peter’s direction, Peter not even trying to hide the smirk on his face.

“Did you just prioritize the villain in a _Rocky_ movie over me, kid? Really?” Tony had put a hand to his chest. “You really know how to kick a guy when he’s down. First, you deny me the chance to parade you around as an Avenger, give you some damn credit for once, and now? Now you just—” Tony seems speechless, Peter full on grinning at his dramatics.

“What can I say, Mr. Stark? You bring out the smart ass in me.”

“Oh, I think you had plenty of that before you met me, Parker. Now look alive kid, let’s try this prototype again before you find some other emotionally devastating quip to say that sends me back into therapy.”

* * *

Peter’s still smiling at the memory, only brought out of it because of Ned’s movement.

“Were you listening, Peter?” He looks at both Ned and MJ watching him. He shakes his head.

“No, sorry man. Say again?” Ned sighs.

“I said, I’m gonna print something. I might grab something from the cafeteria while I’m at it, you want anything?” Peter shrugs.

“I don’t know man, not really hungry.” Ned just gives him a look, Peter avoiding his eyes.

“You need to eat, Peter.”

“Yeah, I know _mom_.” Peter giving Ned a look right back, eyes firm. It’s an argument they’d had before.

Peter didn’t _not_ eat, wasn’t avoiding food or anything. It just didn’t appeal to him much. Nothing really did.

He knew Ned and May were both worried, May even wondering aloud if Peter was depressed. But he wasn’t, depressed he thought. He’d been to enough therapy to believe he could recognize if that was the case.

Peter was grieving. Not just the loss of Tony. The loss of… whatever hope that had sparked when he’d been struck by that rift.

It was Strange’s fault. Strange was the reason for all of this.

Peter was stuck in this timeline. And even with being grateful that he was in one where he still had May, had Ned… had MJ…

It didn’t mean he had to always be happy about it. Tony was still gone.

Besides, sometimes he just didn’t feel like eating crappy cafeteria food. Though to be fair, Peter thought, he hadn’t liked that all that much in the before either.

 “Ned. Go get something to eat. MJ and I will be here when you get back.” Ned frowned, Peter recognizing that he was debating whether or not to push the issue.

Ned knew that Peter had a fast metabolism, was probably concerned for him not just because he was going through some shit, but because Peter had to eat way more than the average person.

But Michelle was there. And they couldn’t risk arguing about that in front of her. Ned sighs, resigned.

“Alright. You want anything, MJ?” She shrugs her shoulders, eyes darted back to the book. Ned gives one last look to Peter, a silent plea before getting up and leaving.

As soon as he walks out of the doors, Peter’s not surprised to hear Michelle’s heartbeat quicken. It usually did, when they were alone – especially in the library.

* * *

 

Whatever spark he’d thought they’d had, hadn’t gone away. Had only magnified. 

He found himself sneaking looks in her direction, only to find she was already staring. Before - before everything - she would've turned away, shot him the finger.

Now she just watched, the faintest hint of a smile on her lips.

He liked it, Peter thought. Catching Michelle's eyes in class, watching as she laughed at the stupid shit Ned would say during lunch.

Even in the depth of his sadness, the sorrow and pain of waking up another day...

Peter couldn’t deny how almost _happy_ he felt when he saw her.

But it felt wrong. It was wrong.

He couldn’t be happy.

Not when there was a universe out there where Tony was alive.

When he was stuck here. Stuck in this one.

Where Tony was dead.

* * *

 

Peter is surprised though that she speaks up.

“He’s worried about you, you know. And he’s right. You should eat.” His eyes meet hers, her expression blank if not for the faintest hint of warmth he can see in her eyes.

“Yeah, well. He’ll get over it.” Peter didn’t mean to snap at her, closes his eyes at how sharp his statement had been.

“You shouldn’t treat him like shit, Parker. He cares about you. More than most people would in this hell hole.”

“I don’t—I’m sorry, MJ. I shoudn’t have snapped at you. I’m just tired.”

“Still not sleeping?”

“Yeah, I—” Peter stops himself, a look of bewilderment across his face. Michelle’s expression is as blank as ever.

“How did you know that?”

“How could I not? You’re an open book, Peter. Anyone could tell you’re exhausted from the look on your face half the time.” She looks at him up and down. “Plus, you dress like someone who rolled out of bed half the time.”  

Peter smirks. “Oh yeah? Glad to know what you think of my fashion sense.”

Michelle rolls her eyes. “You know damn well I don’t care about your _fashion_ sense.” She closes her book, leaning in.

“What do I care about is you acting like a shitty friend to Ned. He’s a good person, Parker. He doesn’t deserve that.”

Peter’s taken aback, almost offended at her tone. “You think I don’t know that? I think you forget that Ned and I have been friends longer than we’ve been friends with you.”

“ _I_ don’t forget that, Parker. But sometimes, I think you do.” She folds her arms together, leaning back in her chair.

“You take him for granted.” Peter laughs.

“I take him for granted? You don’t even know what we’ve been through, Michelle. What I’ve been through…” He trails off, not even noticing as she unfurls her arms.

“I think you’d be surprised at what I know.”

“Oh yeah?” Peter’s snark is clear. “Try me.”

“I know you’re Spider-Man.”

* * *

It’s like the lightning, like the feeling he got when the rift had struck him. He’s frozen, looking at Michelle then glancing away.

_Shit. Shit. Shit._

He looks around the library, remembering that it’s empty. He, Michelle and Ned had chosen to be here for a reason, chosen to spend their time in a relatively empty place to get away from the rest of the school during an overcrowded lunch hour.

Peter’s too shocked to even try and deny it. But he tries to anyway.

“I don’t—I don’t know what you’re—”

Michelle rolls her eyes.

“Don’t insult me, dumbass. It’s obvious.” Peter just stares at her, mouth gaping.

 _She’s bluffing right? This is a trick? I’m dreaming. I’m dreaming again_.

But Peter can hear her heartbeat, it’s even now. Meanwhile, his own was threatening to overtake him.

“I know you’re Spider-Man, dork. And I know you’re going through some shit.” Michelle’s voice softens, Peter feeling disarmed despite himself. She leans forward.

“Look, I don’t know everything that’s going on with you. I don’t even really know about the shit with the end of the world, but I do know that you’re a good person, Peter.” Her eyes bore into his.

There’s a confidence there, the easy and flippant sarcasm replaced with a surety. Peter feels locked into place, not unlike the magic that Strange had done. But unlike that encounter on the roof, this feeling is… wholly unfamiliar, but welcome.

When he was infatuated with Liz, back before everything, he used to daydream of what it would be like to be near her, talk to her, the butterflies never really leaving.

With Michelle, it’s different.

His heart is pounding now, and so is hers. But it’s not in nervousness, Michelle doesn’t make him nervous exactly.

Its anticipation.

Ned had hinted at it, May never shutting up about it.

Now as Peter looks straight into her eyes, he wonders if maybe the tension – the soft pulling he feels, the subconscious need to be around her – might be something more.

Here – looking straight into her eyes – he can’t deny the attraction between them. But it wasn’t just chemistry, wasn’t just the fizzy feeling of a brand-new crush.

Michelle made him comfortable. Like he could trust her.

Like she trusted him.

Peter liked the feeling.

May’s words are ringing in his ears once more, watching as Michelle is silent – taking him in.

_You have to try Peter. Promise me, you’ll try._

He swallows, building up the confidence that he knows is already there.

“I think you’re a good person too Michelle. Thanks… for not telling anybody.”

She shrugs but her eyes betray her, smirking as Peter grins in return.

“Who would ever believe me? Besides, it kills me that the guy Flash Thompson terrorizes is the same guy that he’s basically in love with. Can you imagine the look on his face if he ever found out the truth?”

Peter smirks. “Yeah, I don’t think he’d ever believe you.” She smiles, fully now. Peter can’t help but think that it suits her. How much he’s grown to like her smile. She leans in conspiratorially.

“Maybe not. But that doesn’t mean we still can’t mess with him.”

Peter’s not sure if it’s the tone, his exhaustion, or some mix of the two – but Peter laughs now, a full-bodied laughter that causes him to throw his head back, a stitch forming in his side.

As Michelle joins him, Ned walking back into the library with a bewildered look on his face, Peter is struck with the idea that maybe being anchored to something… to someone… wouldn’t be so bad.

The rift was gone.

Peter had to stay.

As the laughter overtakes him, Ned’s confusion only setting Peter and Michelle off further, Peter thinks that maybe May was right after all.

The rift was gone.

Peter had to stay.

.

.

.

Maybe he should try after all.  

 

 

 

 

END OF PART ONE

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are shifting but trust me - I've tagged correctly. I'm not finished with Peter & Tony just yet. :) 
> 
> It's not a fix-it, but as [blondsak](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blondsak/pseuds/blondsak) has very kindly suggested... it's maybe something similar. <3
> 
> If you haven't already, please let me know what you think! I also love people screaming at me on [tumblr](https://seek-rest.tumblr.com/).


	5. Just as Fair.

PART TWO

 

* * *

 

SIX YEARS LATER

 

* * *

 

 

“Alright, what you got for me, Karen?” Peter asks, sending off a web to attach some idiot to the wall. He hears the mugger mutter something under his breath.

“Hey, you gotta problem with the webs? Then think twice about trying to grab some lady’s bag alright?” Peter shakes his head, swinging away.

“There does not appear to be anyone in immediate danger in your near vicinity, Peter.”

“Good to hear, Karen. How’s the wind speed?” He flicks a hand out, doing a flip as he swings. 

“Currently at five miles per hour, though with your current trajectory – you should arrive to your destination in less than fifteen minutes.”

“Perfect. Can’t be late tonight.”

“No, Peter. You will not be late. Shall I double-check the reservation?” Peter laughs, waving at some tourists as they point to him as we swings ahead of them.

“You can but trust me. I’ve called the restaurant so many times, I think they’re sick of me.”

“It never hurts to be sure, Peter.”

He grins, knowing Karen can’t see it.

“Yeah, go ahead and check it.”

“Are you nervous, Peter? I’ve found over six thousand suggestions on how to alleviate your nerves before—”

“Nah, I’m good. Don’t worry about it, Karen.” He takes one last swing, landing safely on his roof’s covered terrace. He does a half-hearted check, knowing no one’s around, before he takes off his mask.

“I’ve been sure of this for a very long time.”

* * *

It goes well, Peter thinks.

She says yes. Peter knew she would.

Still, Peter’s struck with how well life had gone for him – how perfect the night had been. As he rolls over in bed, watching her – listening as Michelle’s soft snores fill the room – he’s struck with how incredibly lucky the night had been. How lucky he had been.

For someone who could trademark his bad luck, it floors him really.

How the restaurant hadn’t messed up their reservation. The dinner going perfectly, Michelle already suspicious.

The walk through the city had gone perfectly – no robbery, no mugging, no trouble taking him away.

The swing through their favorite part of town – no birds, no random photographers, no rain.

Landing on their rooftop, tea lights illuminating the roof and soft music playing.

It was perfect, Peter thought, as his fingers lightly twirled through Michelle’s curls. She shifts slightly in her sleep, mouth slightly open as she snores, drool already forming on her pillow.

Peter smiles.

Tonight, he had asked Michelle Jones to marry him.

And for once – just once in Peter Parker’s life – the universe hadn’t done anything to mess with him.

It had been the perfect night – a perfect proposal.

Michelle had said yes.

* * *

“You’re late, Parker.”

“Sorry, Doctor Octavius. It won’t happen again.” His supervisor just shakes his head, sighing as he walks off.

Peter sets down his bag and settles down at his bench – opening his laptop as he does. Peter knows he’s got a good gig in this lab, knows that not everyone gets a PI that is as understanding as Doctor Octavius is.

Weird hours. Coming in late. Sometimes leaving way too early.

But Peter thinks – all things considered – he’s doing okay.

As he waits for the program he’s working on to load, he thinks to himself that life hadn’t turned out so bad for him after all.

* * *

He’s in his second year of grad school, still about three away from finishing but Peter doesn’t mind.

With his grad school stipend, the money he’d saved during high school, and – a pang runs through him at the thought – the money he’d been given from Tony Stark’s will – Peter had a pretty comfortable life.

Well, almost comfortable.

He barely remembered graduating from Midtown, the haze of moving into his first apartment for his freshman year at Columbia already a distant memory.

Those first few years – after the snap, after Tony – were a blur for Peter, mostly.

Except of course – for Michelle.

He’d originally planned on going to MIT – in the before, always the before – but with Tony gone, the idea of it had lost its luster.

Ned had gone – as Peter knew he would. As Peter would’ve, maybe in another lifetime. Another universe.

But he wasn’t in that universe. He was stuck – anchored to this one.

And so he stayed. In New York. Close to the city. Close to May, Pepper and Morgan.

And to Michelle.

She stayed too.

* * *

They lived together now. They’d debated it for months, Peter being hesitant.

It had nothing to do with how he felt about Michelle, nothing to do with Spider-Man.

He loved her. She loved him.

But the idea of moving in with her – something about it, the signaling of that next step – scared Peter.

May had encouraged him. Happy had even teased him about it.

But it was only after a conversation with Pepper that he really reconsidered.

* * *

 

“Honestly, Peter. With the amount of time you and Michelle spend together, it would really be better if you guys just moved in together by now. I’m sure your roommate is tired of getting kicked out of his own room by now.” He’d nearly dropped his fork, head whipping over to where Morgan was.

He had been a sophomore in college by then, Morgan almost ten.

“Pepper! What if Morgan hears you?” Pepper almost smiles, mischievous.

Peter didn’t know Pepper well before everything – before the end. He used to wonder how Pepper and Tony seemed to work, especially when to Peter, they had seemed to be so different.

Seeing the look on her face now, Peter thinks that maybe her and Tony weren’t so dissimilar after all.

Peter spent a lot of time with her now, Pepper. Almost as much as May.

“Morgan is fine, wrapped up in whatever new game or app or whatever that is. Don’t try to change the subject, Peter.”

His ears redden, gripping his fork as she continues to stare at him.

They had dinner often now, once a week at least. May would join them sometimes, other times Morgan and Pepper joining Peter at May’s apartment.

It was nice, Peter thought. The little family they had created.

But there was always a spot at the table missing. A voice in the room Peter wished he could hear again. But he couldn’t. Peter – Pepper, Morgan, all of them – were stuck, in a world without Tony Stark.

So, they made the best of it.

“I… I don’t know, Pepper.” He’d moved some of the food around his plate, eyes still firmly set on some imaginary spot. “Things change when you move in together, you know?”

* * *

 

Peter couldn’t really describe his hesitation – much to the exasperation of Michelle. She supported Peter, understood that he carried a lot more than what he ever let on.

All she wanted to do was help. And Peter let her, wanted her to help too.

But moving in with her – the idea of truly making a life with her – made Peter pause.

Loving Michelle was never the problem. He loved her, with nearly everything that was within him.

He loved her laugh. Her sarcasm. Her ability to make him feel completely out of his depth and yet utterly at home.

She was good for him, he thought. And in some ways, Peter thought that maybe he was good for her too.

Of all the challenges Peter faced, all the trauma he had endured – loving Michelle was the easiest thing he had ever done.

But losing Michelle – the knowledge of what would happen to her if _she_ lost _him_ – he couldn’t fathom that, couldn’t imagine doing that to her.

If Peter moved in with Michelle, made that next step with her – all Peter could think of was that it would hurt all the more if – _when_ – the time came when something happened to Peter.

If Peter didn’t come home.

* * *

 

“I know. But you love her, right?” The warmth in her voice brings Peter’s eyes up to Pepper’s face. The lights in their penthouse were bright but there was an undeniable coziness to it.

She still owned the cabin, inviting May, Peter and Michelle out for long weekends whenever they had the chance. But in the years since Tony died, right around when Morgan started going to school, Pepper had bought a penthouse in the city.

Peter loved the cabin, thought it suited them better if he was honest with himself. Had mentioned as much to Michelle.  

But Peter knew – as well as May did – how hard it was to try and live a life when the one you loved was gone.

How hard it was to move around the same space when someone – that one – was missing from it.

Peter couldn’t begrudge her moving closer to the city.

Especially when it gave him more time with Morgan.

He glances back to where she is, headphones on and transfixed by something playing on the screen. He smiles, thinking of how much she was like Tony.

How well Michelle got along with her too.

Peter looks back to Pepper.

“Yeah. I do.”

“Then, there’s nothing to be scared of.” Pepper smiles, leaning back in her chair. A trace of sadness passes through her face, Peter watching as her mouth constricts before settling into a smaller smile.

“You never know how much time you have with the people you love, Peter.” She looked into his eyes, Peter seeing the pain in them.

“Don’t waste it.”

* * *

 

Peter didn’t.

He’d moved in with Michelle not long after that conversation, Michelle rolling her eyes that it had taken them as long as it had but understanding. Always understanding.

Now, a few years later, Peter wondered what he could ever have been worried about. Peter knew that being Spider-Man was dangerous, the idea of getting into something beyond him – something that would take him away from her, still always at the forefront of his mind.

But in Peter’s mind, especially after his conversation with Pepper, he couldn’t imagine it differently.

Living with Michelle – loving her – was the easiest thing in the world.

They still fought, bickered over the little things as couples do. But even Peter surprised himself with just how well he and Michelle seemed to click.

Without her, Peter thought that life wouldn’t just be boring, wouldn’t just be incomplete.

Without Michelle, Peter felt that he wouldn’t really have anything worth fighting for. Only things worth dying for. 

And Peter, despite everything – wanted to keep fighting. For himself. For May, Pepper, and Morgan.

For Michelle.

His life with her almost felt as if it was destiny – fate.

Peter didn’t really believe in all of that, could name the exact moment when the idea of destiny – of anyone being _fated_ for anything – was ruined for him.

But for Michelle, living with her – loving her – made him think that maybe destiny didn’t always have to be a bad thing.

* * *

 

Destiny or not – something was wrong in their apartment.

They’d moved recently. He still had to adjust to new living scenarios, the sensory of a new place still giving his senses a workout.

It was a good place, nicer. Closer to Peter’s lab for school, to Michelle’s job at the Bugle.

But for the past few weeks – much longer than it usually took to readjust – Peter couldn’t shake the sound in the apartment.

The smallest of noises. Incessant, constant – a low buzzing in Peter’s ear.

“Can you hear that?

“You know damn well I can barely hear a tenth of what you can, Peter.” Michelle says, chomping down on her third slice of pizza. He knows this, but he’s distracted.

The noise follows him. And then, it’s gone. Anytime he goes to school, goes out as Spider-Man – it’s gone.

There’s something wrong with the apartment. He’s convinced of it, becomes obsessed – turning the apartment upside down, much to Michelle’s annoyance.

It seems to follow him around everywhere. Every room he goes into, Michelle not too far behind – arguing that he’s messing with the feng shui of the place– there it is. He can’t escape it. Not for long.

Almost two months after they’ve moved in, he’s at it again.

“You’re worrying too much, Peter.” Michelle just watching him, laying on the couch flipping through a magazine as Peter crawls across the ceiling, stopping every so often to wait and listen.

“You can’t hear it, Michelle. It’s…” Peter thinks. It’s soft, a slight buzzing almost. Not annoying, only persistent. He can’t get away from it.

“Are we in danger?”

Peter doesn’t answer her, Michelle’s eyes darting back up to him. She puts the magazine down while he lands softly on the floor. He looks towards their kitchen. The buzzing, soft but steady, is still there.

“Peter.” He turns to her, seeing the look of trepidation on her face. Even now, slightly agitated, Peter’s overwhelmed with how much he loves her.

Michelle is patient, watching him with eyes that are far too seeing – too aware – of the things that Peter is weighed down by. They’d talked about it endlessly – everything, endlessly – in the months and years after the snap.

Peter had never wanted to burden Ned with what he knew, even knowing that Ned would’ve listened to it all.

But with Michelle – it felt different, was different.

The hurt. The betrayal. The agony of living in a world when someone he loved had passed away once again.

Talking to Michelle about it came as easy as loving her, as easy as living with her had been. While Peter knew that Ned would never have felt burdened, would never have thought anything less of Peter – Peter couldn’t deny that as much as he loved Ned, sharing this with Michelle just worked differently.

Ned was his best friend.

So was Michelle. But she was also more than that. His confidante. His safe place. His lover.

Michelle held his deepest secrets without judgement, without reserve. Rather than burdening, Peter only felt lighter after talking with her.

Talking with Ned felt like he was sharing a part of his soul.

But talking with Michelle felt like coming home.

As he sits down on the couch beside her, taking in her features, Peter’s reminded of that conversation in the library all those years ago – the first time Peter had let her in.

* * *

 

He hadn’t known what to make of Michelle then.

She was so different from any other girl he had ever met, so different than any other crush he had ever had.

He didn’t get butterflies around Michelle.

He felt fireworks.

Bright. Passionate. Filled with light.

But he also felt peace, a serenity with her he couldn’t quite describe.

Peter’s life didn’t look anything like he had imagined it would – couldn’t have ever dreamed this is the path his life had taken.

But as he looks at her face, the concern still etched across her face, a surge of love flows through him. Peter wouldn’t have it any other way.

He leans in, bringing her into an embrace. 

A few moments later, Michelle a little breathless but firm says, “Peter. You didn’t answer me. Is something wrong?”

He smiles. Moves toward her even more. Her eyebrows raise, Peter smiles. 

“Nothing’s wrong, Michelle.”

“Peter, you were just—”

He brings his lips to hers.

And the fluttering noise becomes the last thing on Peter’s mind.

* * *

“Maybe you should call Strange, have him do his magic tricks on you.” Peter sighs, grabbing a roll from the basket Happy was passing around.

“For the last time, it’s not magic tricks. He’s Sorcerer Supreme.”

Pepper laughs. “I bet he’s great at parties.”

“Kid parties, I’m sure. Balloon animals, levitation, the whole works.” Happy smirks. The table laughs at his expense, Peter smiling despite himself.

It was a family dinner, though they rarely called them that. James, Happy, Peter and Michelle – Bruce when he could. They were all at Pepper’s place – a central location, to make it easier for Morgan and school the next day.

Peter glances around the table, Michelle catching his eye.

“You alright?” Peter nods.

“Yeah. I’m fine.”

* * *

Strange was still – even almost seven years later – a sore spot for Peter. Michelle knew that, even if Happy was oblivious.

Peter and Strange hadn’t ever recovered from that conversation on the roof.

True to his word, Strange seemed to watch out for Peter. They still worked together, in the way all of the remaining Avengers did.

There hadn’t been a threat as big as Thanos since – Peter wondered if there ever would be again.

But Strange never seemed to be too far, never too far removed from Peter’s orbit. Except for their family dinners.

Strange wasn’t invited to those.

* * *

“Well if you change your mind, kid – don’t forget that Strange isn’t the only freak we got on speed dial.” Happy winked, causing Peter to genuinely smile.

James laughed. “Yeah, you keep calling Wanda a freak and you know I’m gonna tell her right?”

Happy gave a look. “You kidding me? I was talking about bird brain. I wouldn’t mess with Wanda if you paid me.”

They laugh again. Pepper pipes up.

“Tony thought the same thing. I like Wanda, but even I’ll admit… she scares me a little.”

The mood shifts, as it always does – at the mention of Tony.

Tony Stark had been gone from their lives for almost seven years – almost seven years in a world without him – and their little world was still irrevocably changed from the loss.

Peter’s not surprised when May, sensing the change as they all did, speaks.

“Morgan seems to like her though, right sweetie?” Morgan smiles, nodding.

“Yeah, she’s really cool. Her eyes glow. It’s weird.” Pepper laughs.

“I don’t think that’s a compliment, kiddo.” Morgan just rolls her eyes.

“Weird isn’t a bad thing, mom.”

“I don’t know, kid. Weird still seems like an insult to me.” James offers, taking a sip from his drink.

Michelle finishes a bite of potatoes before saying, “I’m with short stuff. Weird is badge of honor.”

Peter laughs. “You _would_ say that Michelle.”

“You really want to fight me on that, Parker?” Peter puts his hands up, a quick surrender.

“I didn’t think so.” She turns to Morgan. “Don’t worry, kid. I got your back.” Michelle winks, and Morgan beams.

Peter watches their back and forth, made glad once again at Pepper’s push. Michelle was good for him – good for them. As he takes her hand, he lets himself drift on with the conversation around him.

“So what’s the big plan then? Morgan, did you ever decide where you wanted to have your party?” May asks.

“Oh no. We’re not having party talk now. Then I have to acknowledge that Morgan’s actually getting older.” Happy shakes his head, while Pepper grins.

“Come on Hap, don’t tell me you’re getting sentimental on us.” James nudges Happy’s sides.  

“Shut up Rhodes. Don’t act like you weren’t right there along with Tony, blubbering like an idiot when she was born.” Peter watches as Happy smiles at Morgan.

“He cried so much, squirt. Like you wouldn’t believe.” Morgan giggles.

“Really?”

“Oh yeah, totally. The works. All of them.” Happy’s face turns into a sad smile.

“Your dad did too.” Morgan just smiles larger, the sight of it warming Peter inside and out. He pipes up then.  

“You know, I wish I could’ve seen that.” Happy looks to Peter.

“Yeah kid, I wish you could’ve too.”

Pepper clears her throat.

“You know, _I’m_ the one who had to give birth to her. I feel like I should be getting some credit here.” The table laughs.

“Yeah, you definitely deserve the credit there.” Michelle grins, Pepper returning it before continuing on to Morgan.

“Your dad really was such a sap when you were born though, sweetheart. Absolutely paranoid when I was pregnant.” Happy snorts.

“Oh, paranoid doesn’t even begin to cover it.” He points to James. “You remember when he said he was going to babyproof the state of New York?”

James laughs. “Yeah, I don’t know how he thought that was going to work.”

May shrugs, smiling towards Peter.

“Well, when it’s your kid, there’s really not anything you _wouldn’t_ do for them you know?” Peter returns it.

Happy just smiles. “Yeah. He was worried as hell. But you know, Tony said that once he heard that little heartbeat, his little hummingbird come to life, it was like everything else would fall into place.”

The world stops for Peter, the lightness of the conversation zeroing in. He turns to Happy. “What did you say?”

* * *

Buzzing. Humming. Constant.

Peter suddenly has a little trouble breathing, his senses dialing back up to eleven.

The table stops at the sharpness in Peter’s tone. Happy laughs, a little uncomfortable. “Can’t be that difficult to think of Tony as being paternal. You know it all started with you, Pete.”

Peter shakes his head. “No, not that. Before.. you said… he called her what?” A gnawing in Peter’s stomach starts to form.

Happy smiles. “His little hummingbird. It’s what her heartbeat sounded like to him, the cutest thing.”

May chimes in. “I remember being there with Mary for your sonogram, Peter. One of the happiest memories of my life.” Peter just looks at her, mouth slightly open, his head whirring.

“I knew from the moment I heard it, I was going to love you forever. Just like you were my own.” The room is smiling at her, at Peter – but Peter’s mind is elsewhere, frantic – a thousand different things running through it all at once.

* * *

 

The buzzing. The sound he only heard – _thought_ he heard ­– in the apartment, is present again. Almost a ringing in his ears.

He looks to Michelle, her smile turning into one of confusion. Was there something wrong with him? Something wrong with Pepper’s apartment? Maybe it was an epidemic, some kind of infestation.

He tilts his head, focusing on Michelle while he thinks.

* * *

It was a habit of Peter's now, a pattern.

Michelle grounded him, the knowledge of her being there with him – steady, patient, understanding – made Peter feel like he could tackle anything. He listens, the table around him looking at him curiously.

Peter can hear her heartbeat, steady – calm. It grounds him, even then. The knowledge that Michelle’s heart is steadily beating calms him. But then…

He hears it, just as clearly as he had heard the voices around him. So noticeable, so loud – he wonders how the hell he hadn’t put it together before now. Michelle was right. For someone so smart, he really was so unbelievably _stupid_.

* * *

The noise, the buzzing.

It was only in the apartment. His apartment. Theirs. The one he shared with Michelle.

He thinks back to all those weekends trying to find the source, the way Michelle would trail after him.

He thinks of how it never seemed to end, was everywhere – constantly following him.

Constantly following Michelle.

It’s like a hummingbird, frantic and quick… like a tiny heartbeat.

A tiny heartbeat… coming from Michelle.

* * *

He meet’s Michelle’s eyes. Hers widen in concern. “Peter?”

Her heart skips a beat.

The buzzing, the hummingbird – the tiny heartbeat – goes even faster at the sound of Michelle’s voice.

He could hear them both. Clear as day.

Two heartbeats. Michelle’s… and a baby’s.

 _Their_ baby.

Peter freezes.

_Oh shit._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :) 
> 
> Feel free to yell at me in the comments or come scream at me on [tumblr](http://seek-rest.tumblr.com).


	6. Two Mornings.

“Peter, will you slow down?” Michelle is panting behind him, Peter almost dragging her across the sidewalk.

Peter had barely recovered at dinner, made up some excuse for his outburst. He was quiet for the rest of it, neither May nor Michelle believing him. While the dinner moved on to other topics, Peter cleared the plates.

He avoided May for the rest of the night, a nearly impossible feat when it was only the seven of them. On his way to the bathroom – Peter couldn’t stop shaking and wanted to get a handle on himself – May had cornered him.

“What happened during dinner, Pete? Was it something Happy said? About Tony? You know you can always talk to me.”

“I’m fine, May.” Peter distracted, barely being able to take his eyes off Michelle.

He loves her, loves her with every fiber of his being, but all he can think of now is how fragile she is. How wild this could be.

* * *

He was young, far too young. Michelle too. They’d talked about this often, Michelle mentioning how she wanted to be secure in her career before she ever considered kids – how Peter wouldn’t be able to just up and leave her with a baby to run off and be Spider-Man.

She understood what he did, supported him completely. But even Peter couldn’t argue with that, knew she was considering more than just the practical aspects of co-parenting with a super-hero.

It was the unspoken fear, the hesitancy Peter had originally had before moving in together.

Peter knew all too well what it was like to live without parents. Knew any kid of theirs would have an exponentially greater risk of that because of Peter’s job.

But he still wanted kids someday. Despite everything.

Peter was young, only twenty-three, but as he would hold Michelle at night, listen to her soft breathing – he sometimes felt much older than his years.

He’d lived a shit life. A great life. A long life in an impossibly short number of years.

Peter wanted to be a dad.

And from all he could gather, Michelle wanted to be a mom too.

* * *

“You know, I wouldn’t have thought of you as the maternal type.” She snorted, throwing a box of tissues at him. He catches it, almost missing it because of his sickly state.

Peter didn’t get sick often. Rarely ran a fever. But a combination of dealing with some lizard freak, a blizzard that kept him out too long, and an accidental dip in the Hudson had caused Peter to suddenly feel like he’d gotten hit by a truck.

Ten of them. Maybe a thousand.

Peter blows his nose, eyes lazily watching her as she went back and forth in their kitchen. Michelle was making some kind of soup, some recipe she said her father swore by. Peter didn’t care.

He felt like shit. But watching Michelle run around made him laugh.

“I’m serious, MJ. You scared me in high school. Scare me a little still, if I’m honest.” Her curly hair bounces as she turns to him, a smirk on her face.

“Good. It’s nice to know I can still strike fear into the heart of my enemies.” Peter coughs.

“Enemies?” The sound is pitched, an octave higher than he’s had in years. Michelle laughs out loud, Peter smiling at the sound.

“Fine line between love and hate. Don’t test me, Parker. Now here, eat this and you’ll feel better. Jones guaranteed.” Michelle sets the soup down in front of him, Peter watching. She goes to move to the other side of the room, but Peter extends his hand, holding her into place.

“Peter, come on you’re sick.” He pouts, knowing it’ll cause Michelle to roll her eyes. When she does, Peter grins.

“Yeah but I know of a couple of ways you can make me feel better.” Michelle laughs louder.

“Peter. I have three deadlines this week. There is no way I’m letting you get me sick.” Peter’s the one to roll his eyes now, overdramatic as he lets her go. She smiles, surprising him by curling up by his side anyway. She shimmies her way under his massive mountain of blankets, Peter sighing as her body heat warms him up.

“You know, if we end up having kids – you’ll have to figure out how the whole ‘not getting sick’ thing is gonna work out.” She gives him a look.

“First of all, we literally _just_ got engaged what, a month ago? Cool it on the kid talk, Parker.”

“Wait what? Now you don’t want them?”

“Don’t twist my words, Peter. Of course, I want kids.” Her gaze softens. “I want _your_ kids.”

Peter smiles, bringing her closer to his chest. As her head snuggles into his chest, her hair curling his chin, Michelle continues.

“But I’m not going to be the only one who’s stuck at home with a sick kid. I have a job too you know.”

“I know.” Peter says, snuggling into her. “You really think I’ll be that kind of dad? Let the mom take care of everything?” Michelle snorts.

“You think I’d agree to marry you if I thought you _would_ be that kind of dad?”

The silence is answer enough, the quiet comfortable as Peter feels himself drifting off to sleep. As his breathing evens out, the sound of Michelle’s heartbeat almost lulling him to sleep, he hears Michelle speak up again.

“I think you’ll be a great dad though, Peter. Someday.”

Before sleep overtakes him, before he lets himself chase the sickness away, he softly whispers back.

“I think you’d be a great mom too.”

* * *

Peter wanted kids. So did Michelle. They wanted them together.

But they _were_ still young, had barely even gotten engaged.

Peter knows he’s being irrational, that compared to some of the kids from high school – ones who were well on to their third kid – he and Michelle were behind.

It wasn’t a competition – life’s milestones. They were living life, taking their time. They were getting married.

They did want kids. Someday.

But that was the thing, Peter thought.

They wanted kids, both of them.

But now?

Was it real? Was this really happening? Now? _Right now?_

Did she want this?

Did he?

* * *

“Peter.” His eyes focus back on May. Her mouth is twisted in disapproval.

“You’re not fine. I thought we’d talked about this. Cut the bullshit, Pete. What’s wrong?” He glances at Michelle, then back to May. If this was real – if he was hearing right – this would change May’s life just as much, if not more, than theirs.

May would be overjoyed, thrilled at the idea. But he had to know. Had to talk to Michelle. If this is real – the humming bird beating so wildly and loudly that Peter doesn’t know how he could ever stop listening to it – he had to know for sure. He can’t lie to May now.

“I… I don’t know.”

“Peter.”

“I’m not sure, I just—I need to check something okay? I gotta go.”

May sighs. “Peter…”

“I promise, May. I promise, everything’s fine. It will be. I think. We gotta go. Michelle!”

He sidesteps May, grabbing Michelle’s hand. She was in mid-conversation with Sam, arguing about some political thing. Before she can finish a thought, already knowing Michelle would be yelling at him cutting her off, Peter is dragging her outside the door.

His heartbeat thunders in his ears, hers is steadfast.

He can also hear the hummingbird so clearly, wonders how he ever could’ve missed it before.

As he leads her down to the elevator, Peter knows at least one thing.

He had to be sure.  

* * *

Peter, if you break my arm, I’m going to smack you.” He turns, eyes frantic. She laughs.

“I’m kidding, Peter geez what is with you tonight?” He must have some expression on his face because the look on hers softens.

“Hey… are you okay? When Happy mentioned Tony, something changed. Did you remember something? Are you alright?”

Peter’s heart jumps at her concern, how much she cares.

She loves him. He loves her, more than he ever thought possible. The love of his life. She’s going to make a great mom someday.

_Is she a mom now?_

With that thought, his mission is revived. He ignores her question, running into the Safeway. Peter zeroes in on the aisle he’s going for – Michelle not too far behind. She’s pestering him with questions, concerned and annoyed.

She sees what he’s staring at, what he’s stopped in front of. He turns to her.

The penny drops. Realization settling on her face.

They were in tune with each other, in sync. Michelle knew that something had been bothering Peter for weeks, months. _How many months?_  

Without even saying it, Peter watches as Michelle recognizes the unspoken words – recognizes that the buzzing Peter had been hearing, the conversations around the table tonight, all had led to them standing in the aisle of a Safeway three blocks from Pepper’s apartment.

Peter watches as Michelle opens her mouth. Closes it. Her eyes meet his.

“You have got to be kidding me.”

* * *

Peter can’t stop his leg from shaking, fingers tapping nervously against them.

“Well?”

“It’s not magic, Peter. Give me a second.” He hears her wash her hands, Michelle comes into the bedroom. Peter’s on the side of the bed, she sits next to him – stick in hand.

“How long?”

“A minute. Maybe two.”

They sit in silence, neither of them speaking. Peter’s sure – as sure as the humming bird beating next to him – that he can actually hear the whirring of her brain and his.

Michelle hadn’t spoken more than two words since he had bought the test, her expression completely unreadable.

He and Michelle weren’t stupid. She’d been on birth control since before her and Peter had ever started dating, a conscientious decision of a responsible woman.

It’s something Peter admired about her.

But Michelle hadn’t protested when he bought the test, her mind probably going to the same place his had.

* * *

Michelle was militant about her birth control, about so much in her life. Focused on making sure she did everything she could to make a difference in the world. She may not have had the same powers Peter did, but to Peter’s mind – she made just as, if not more of one, in her work.

But then a few weeks ago, maybe even a few months – _at least two_ Peter thinks – Michelle had asked Peter to pick up her new prescription. He had, but it had taken him longer than normal. He’d had to tangle with a juiced-up rhino freak, aggravated from the night’s events, frustrated that that the guy had gotten away.

Frustrated that he’d gotten himself hurt.

Michelle had cared for him like she always did, mended his wounds. And then as those nights usually ended, especially after an encounter where Peter almost died, he and Michelle would remind each other how much they were glad he hadn’t – that he’d made it through another day.

Peter could still vividly remember that night.

The rain outside. The feel of her skin against his. Out of breath and wholly relaxed in each other’s arms afterwards.

He had gone for her prescription a day or two after, once he’d fully recovered.

But she still missed a few days. Maybe only a day.

Peter wondered how statistically improbable – something only Parker luck could give – that that one night would make their hummingbird possible.  

* * *

She had to have remembered, was thinking of the same thing Peter was. Because as he sits there, the seconds agonizingly ticking by – Peter wishes he could hear her thoughts just as clearly as the humming bird’s beats.

Was she nervous? Excited? Mad? Did she want this?

Did he?

But as he waits, the seconds still crawling by, he can’t help this new feeling. The joy. The excitement. The possibility.

Yes. He wants this. He wants this more than anything.

* * *

Peter always wanted to be a father. The idea of it terrifies him. Bringing a kid into the world, this world – still reeling from the destruction Thanos wrought. A world of monsters, magic, and mayhem.

And yet.

Peter thinks of his own childhood, marked with tragedy after tragedy. And still – filled with so much love. How his mom and dad used to tuck him at night. How Ben and May would help him with his homework, taking him to conventions and museums.

He even thinks of Tony, the nights spent laughing in his lab.

Peter’s life had been filled with more sadness, more pain, than anyone could’ve dreamed. But it was also filled with love. More love than he knew what do with it. And part of that love was felt, radiated from the woman sitting next to him. His mind keeps mulling it over and over.

He’s not ready.

_Is anyone ever really?_

They’re not ready.

 _We’ll be badass parents_.

It’s too soon.

_Can you ever plan for this?_

Peter can’t deny – despite everything – how much he wants this.

Right now. He wants this.

But what does Michelle want?

Before he gets the chance to ask, she gets up. Taking the test in hand.

“It’s ready.” Her voice even, unreadable.

“And?” His voice hitches, expectant. Waiting. _Hopeful_.

“It’s positive.”

* * *

Peter doesn’t dare to say a word, his mind running a thousand miles an hour.

He knew this was the result, knew it the minute he connected the dots. A little hummingbird – _his_ little hummingbird – was real.

A part of him wishes he could tell Tony about it.

Another part of him wonders if he would have anything to tell.

Peter’s all too aware of the dangers of pregnancy, of having a baby, of deciding to bring a child into the world before you’re ready.

_When is anyone ever really ready?_

But Peter also knows that as much as he wants this – _badly, terrifyingly, he wants this_ – he knows the decision isn’t completely up to him.

He had a stake in this – their little hummingbird was part him too.

But Peter didn’t have to carry the baby. Wasn’t the one who had to deal with the physical, social and emotional ramifications of a child right now. Michelle was right.

For all of Peter’s desire and support, no one would tell him he couldn’t keep working if he had a newborn.

* * *

He sits there for a minute, twiddling his thumbs, trying to figure out what to say.

Michelle beats him to it.

“So I guess that’s that then.” He whips his head up.

“What?”

“Well, you know I guess we’ve already decided. I mean… I can set an appointment. Or whatever.” Her voice is soft, quiet.

A sharp pain cuts through Peter. He closes his eyes.

He should’ve guessed, should’ve known she wasn’t ready. But he had hoped. Had _dared_ to already start dreaming.

Peter should’ve known the universe wouldn’t give him everything he wants. But he dismisses the uncharitable thought, knowing he still loves Michelle. Knowing that when she’s ready – whenever that is – he’ll be ready for it too.

“Uh yeah… yeah, whatever you want.” He tries to control the shaking in his voice, tries to steady himself.

He was disappointed. Could barely contain it.

But if this was what Michelle wanted – Peter wouldn’t argue.

Loving Michelle was the easiest thing in the world.

They’d have kids. Someday. When she was ready.

“You want me to come with you? I mean, I will of course, I will but I know you don’t like to be babied when you’re sick. Or I guess…” Peter trails off.

Michelle’s face twists. “I’m not sick, Parker. I’m pregnant.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know but you know, after. You won’t feel well, and I don’t want to hover. I know how much you hate that.”

Michelle looks completely confused now. “You think I won’t feel well after? I didn’t think it was that big of a deal.”

Peter’s a little taken aback, but quickly recovers. It wasn’t a big deal, he told himself. It was Michelle’s decision. He’d support her. No matter what.

Loving Michelle was the easiest thing in the world.

“I mean, yeah no sure. Not a big deal, I’m just saying… you know, I could ask Happy if we could borrow his car. Just so we don’t have to take the subway after.”

Michelle sighs. “What the hell are you talking about Peter?” He looks up, taking in the almost agitated look on her face.

He recognizes that look, Michelle growing impatient and annoyed. He stands.

“I mean… I just, I know it hurts afterwards and I don’t want you to have to jostle around a subway station you know? I mean, we can definitely look into an overnight stay somewhere if you want. I have some extra money saved this month. We can rent out a hotel room, a nice one if you’d like. Just so you can relax.”

He takes her hands into his. “Whatever you want Michelle.”

She drops his hands, Peter almost hurt at the motion.

“What I want is for you to stop being so dramatic, Peter. I’m pregnant, not glass. You don’t have to start treating me like I’m some damn breakable object.”

“I’m not, I’m not trying to. I’m just saying, I’ve read about it and I know it can take a lot of out of you so I just—” Michelle rolls her eyes, sighing loudly.

“Oh, so you’ve _read_ about it now? Well, I’m the one who went with Shannon when she went to her appointment, so I think I have a better idea of the whole thing than you do.”

Peter stops, confusion settling in.

Shannon was a mutual friend, a girl that had taken the same gen ed government class during their sophomore year.

She’d gotten pregnant halfway through the semester. But to Peter’s knowledge, had very much decided to keep the pregnancy, the invite to her daughter’s 3rd birthday party still on their fridge.

A glimmer of something like hope starts to blossom in his heart but he quickly shoots it down.

“I don’t understand.” Michelle sighs once again.

“What’s not to understand, Peter? If you’re going to keep acting like this, I swear, I’ll just move in with May until the kid comes.” She purses her lips. “Actually, May might end up being worse.”

The glimmer goes a little brighter, catching in his throat.

“Wait… you want, you want to _keep_ the baby?”

Michelle just looks at him, an expression that Peter can’t decipher on her face. Her eyes widen, then start to blink rapidly.

“Oh.” She softly whispers. “Oh…” Michelle bites her lip, eyes shifting away.              

“I mean, we don’t… we don’t have… yeah, I guess you’re right. You’re right. We… we shouldn’t.”

The hope springs forward, pushing the next words out of Peter’s mouth before he can stop them.

“I want to.” He stops, holding his breath. Michelle looks up at him.

Peter thinks he should’ve stopped himself, didn’t want to pressure her in any way. But then he sees the relief break out over her face, a laugh escaping her.

“God, Peter I thought… you scared me.” He gives a hesitant laugh before pressing.

“Whatever you want Michelle. I just… whatever you want.” She smiles, genuinely while she searches his eyes.

“Peter, did you really think I wouldn’t? Wouldn’t want to have a baby – this baby – with you?” His mouth twists, the hope filling up his entire being.

“I…” He searches her eyes, looking to see for a trace of hesitation, of doubt.

He doesn’t see anything like it. Only sees Michelle – happy, content, looking right into his. He sighs, the relief overwhelming him.

“I just didn’t want you to feel pressured. When you said… the appointment. I thought, I just…” Michelle closes her eyes, shaking her head in disbelief.

“You thought I was talking about something else.”

He scratches the back of his neck, knowing Michelle would recognize the tell for what it is. She sighs, bringing Peter into an embrace. He lets his arms envelop her, feels her heart – and his little hummingbird – beat rapidly against his chest.

“Peter, I love you with my whole heart. We’re engaged. I want to _marry_ you.” She squeezes her arms around him before leaning back.

Their faces are inches from each other, Peter’s heart soaring at Michelle’s next words.

“How could you ever think I wouldn’t want this? Wouldn’t want this baby, with you?”

He brings his forehead to hers, eyes closing.

“I just didn’t want you to feel pressured. I mean, I know we talked about it but we never really specified a time, you know? Plus, you’re just starting your career… the money…”

“We’ll figure it out, Peter. We always do.” He smiles, hearing the smile in her voice. She leans her head back, Peter looking into her eyes.

A part of him almost thought she looked like she was glowing.

“We’re going to have a baby.” Peter smiles, the hope filling him from the inside out.

“Yeah. We are.”

As he brings her into a kiss, lips locked into a warm embrace, Peter thinks of how his life had turned out.

It’s been almost seven years since Peter’s life had changed again, since the snap had turned his world upside down.

But Peter – anchored, locked in place, stuck in a universe he couldn’t have chosen – had done the best he could.

Peter knew that when it came to life, to grief, to mourning – you could never move on. You could only move forward.

Peter could have never imagined that this is how his life would’ve turned out. But now, holding Michelle – hearing her heartbeat, their little hummingbird – Peter wondered if it really could’ve turned out any better.

Peter never moved on… the losses of his life were too great to move on from. 

But now, Peter had something even better to look forward to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Marvel said PeterMJ rights and SO DO I!
> 
> But the story's not over yet. 
> 
>  
> 
> Peter's still in for a wild ride. 
> 
> Feel free to yell at me in the comments or come scream at me on [tumblr](http://seek-tumblr.com).


	7. Wanted Wear.

Peter Parker was going to be a dad.

He’d told everyone – anyone and everyone who would listen. Peter almost announces it to the world as Spider-Man, takes everything in him not to tell random thugs the truth.

“Peter, I don’t think Michelle would appreciate your discussion of diapers while in a fight.”

“But that’s – ugh, hold on, quit moving!” Peter dodges a punch before webbing a gun out of the way. He slings it to the wall, sends another to send the guy towards the wall. “That’s just it, Karen. If I don’t start thinking about it now, how am I ever going to be prepared? Did you know there’s like, four hundred options at the grocery store?”

Karen had chimed in with the actual number at his local store and Peter had only laughed. He didn’t even care to correct her, didn’t care whether or not anyone overheard.

Peter was going to be a dad.

And he was unbelievably excited.

* * *

May was ecstatic, overwhelmed, just as excited as he knew she would be. She had squealed when he and Michelle had told her, clasped her hands together before squeezing Michelle tight.

“Oh! Oh! Sorry, sorry!” Michelle had laughed, and Peter grinned.

“I’m pretty sure it’s like the size of a peanut or something.”

“A fig.” May and Michelle just looked at Peter. “What? I downloaded an app!” He brings out his phone, Michelle rolling her eyes as he does so.

“Of course, you downloaded an app. _I’m_ the pregnant one, Parker. Don’t think we’re gonna start that _‘we’re pregnant’_ shit that Jamie and Alex did.” He laughed and shook his head, motioning for May to see.

“No, no I know that annoys you, I’m just—” He glances up, eyes bright. “I just want to know how the hummingbird is doing you know?”

Michelle’s eyes light up at the reference, May’s eyes shining.

“Hummingbird?” Peter nods, head back down to the app. “Yeah, Tony was right. Heartbeat sounds just like a humming bird.”

He busies himself with the app, can sense that May and Michelle are sharing a look.

Peter had gotten used to it by now, the silent conversations May and Michelle would have – usually related to him.

Related to him in reference to Tony.

A part of him still ached – would always ache – that Tony was gone. He missed Tony’s humor, his mentorship and advice.

Now, with his own impending fatherhood looming in front of him, Peter wished he could ask about this too.

* * *

Peter may not have been able to talk to Tony, but he did have the next best thing.

“Wait, like – what does a godmother even do?” Peter laughed, leaning against Morgan on the bench.

It was a weekend out to the cabin, only the four of them this time since May had some errands to run. Peter wasn’t sure how true that was, but he didn’t push the issue.

As much as he loved May, Peter was glad that she seemed to understand that he wanted some time with Pepper and Morgan this weekend – especially Morgan.

“Well, it means a lot of different things but, basically – if anything were to happen to me or Michelle, we’re thinking that you would be the best person to watch out for our little hummingbird.”

Morgan’s eyes darted to Peter’s than away, biting her lip as she thought. Peter’s struck with the notion of how much the action was similar to Tony.

She had his features – dark brown eyes and hair. Her mother’s smile, and patience. Her father’s laugh.

Peter may not have known what he’d be like as a father – terrified of messing anything up – but he was at least glad he was certain he loved kids.

If his kid turned out to be anything like Morgan, Peter thought he’d be lucky.

“You know I’m only like, twelve Peter.” He laughed, almost snorting with her bluntness. Morgan was assuredly her father’s daughter.

“Yeah, yeah, Morgan I know. I’m saying, like when the kid’s older. Way older. Nothing’s gonna happen to Michelle or I…” Peter stops, Morgan looking at him while he pauses.

He can’t promise that. Couldn’t promise it to Michelle, to May.

Wouldn’t dare to promise such a thing to Morgan Stark.

Before he can think of how to redirect the conversation, Morgan speaks instead.

“I’ll do it, Peter. Don’t worry. Just wanted to be sure you knew what you were getting into.” A mischievous grin forms on her face, Peter struck once again with how similar it was to her parents. “If you and MJ kick the bucket, I got BIG plans for the kid.”

He laughs. “Oh, do you now?” Morgan only nodded, the smirk seemingly permanent on her face.

“Don’t worry, Pete. I got it covered. Wait – is it an it or do you like, know if it’s a boy or girl or whatever?” Peter shrugged.

“Michelle and I haven’t really decided if we want to know. Surprise and all that, I guess.” Morgan tilts her head, waiting.

“Can you hear it now? The…. Beating or whatever?” He nods, closing his eyes as he finds it.

Listening for Michelle’s heartbeat is second nature to him, a pattern, a calming influence. He finds her immediately in the kitchen, chatting about composting with Pepper. He listens for his little hummingbird fluttering – the beating so quick, he can’t imagine how he ever could’ve lived without it – warmed his insides. He opened his eyes and looked back to Morgan.

“Yeah, wish you could too, kiddo.” Morgan shakes her head.

“Nah, I’m good. Got enough on my plate.” Peter snorts.

“What, hard knock life out there for a sixth grader?” Morgan only rolls her eyes, sighing dramatically.

“You’re impossible.”

“I like think of myself more as spectacular, amazing, incredible…” Peter’s stopped by Morgan shoving him, letting himself get pushed away. They both laugh until Peter notices the smile doesn’t reach her eyes.

“Hey… you doing okay?”

She nods. “Yeah, I’m good. Just thinking you know.” She quirks her lips, eyes glancing up to Peter’s. “I don’t want to screw the kid up you know?”

Peter’s continuously amazed at how much Morgan is like her father, the hidden pain of the statement throwing him for a loop.

“You’re going to be _great_ , Morgan. Absolutely incredible. And you know, if godmother is too big of a title, or too much pressure, Michelle and I completely underst—”

“Oh no, I’m in. I think I’ll be a kickass godmother.”

“Morgan.”

She makes a face. “A _great_ godmother.” Peter grins.

“Just want to do a good job you know? I don’t want to let you or MJ down.” She shrugs but Peter puts his arm around her, bringing her into a quick hug.

“You’re gonna do great, kiddo. Don’t worry about it. We’re in this together alright? You, me, Michelle, your mom, May… this little hummingbird is gonna be totally covered.” He squeezes her shoulders then tweaks her side, getting a laugh.

“We took care of you right?” Morgan rolls her eyes.

“ _That_ is definitely up for debate.”

As Peter laughs and Morgan smiles, Peter thinks that while he would give almost anything to have Tony with him – he’s glad that he had at least gotten the chance to watch a little piece of him grow up.

If Peter couldn’t have Tony in his life anymore, he was thankful that at least – he had Morgan.

* * *

“Peter, can you grab your phone?” Michelle lifted his soundproof headphones, Peter disoriented for a few seconds before listening to her request.

“Huh?” He blinks a couple of times, adjusting to the sounds around him.

“Sorry, it’s your phone. It’s been going for the past couple of minutes – figured it’d have to be important.” Michelle hands it to him before walking towards the kitchen, no doubt in search of something to snack on.

Peter takes the phone, grinning as he watches her. Michelle was about to start her second trimester – refusing to acknowledge her pregnancy in terms of weeks since in her words “that doesn’t even make sense, Peter” – and was full-on in pregnancy craving mode.

As he takes off his headphones completely, watching as she opens the fridge and considers her options, Peter’s overwhelmed with how content he feels.

He’d already been sent on any number of errands around the city, swinging back and forth for whatever crazy combination Michelle was craving. But Peter didn’t care.

Loving Michelle was the easiest thing in the world. And now - already - he's convinced that loving his little hummingbird would be just as easy too. 

Peter looked down to his phone, only to see thirty missed calls. He wonders what he missed, why his senses hadn’t alerted him to any danger.

He gets another call before he can think of what to do next.

“Hello?”

“Peter. It’s Wong.”

Peter’s confused. “Wong?” He sees Michelle turn, eyebrows raising.

“I need you to come to the Sanctum.” Peter can hear the fridge close, opening his mouth to question before Wong continues.

“It’s Strange.”

“What does he want?” Peter asks, watching as Michelle walks towards him, sitting beside him on the couch. The confused look on her face matches Peter's.

“It’s… it would be better if we discussed this in person.”

“Can’t you just magic yourself over here? Or magic me there? Why call?” Peter sighed. “Look Wong, I know we have a meeting next weekend at the Compound but—”

“Peter.”

“Look, I get it Wong. I know Strange and I had different ideas about how to solve the water guy last week but I really don’t think we need a team meeting about it or anything. Can’t it wait?” Michelle puts a hand to his leg, her face questioning. Peter rolls his eyes, shrugging.

He didn’t mean to be so dismissive, he worked with Strange well enough all things considered.

But he and Michelle had plans to just stay in for the night – an intentional decision for Peter to practice nights away from his swinging gig. It was only his second time trying it out, but the knowledge that Sam and whoever else knew Peter was out of commission – if only for a couple of hours on a Thursday night – comforted Peter. 

Peter Parker was going to be a dad. And he already promised himself - his little hummingbird - that he would never be an absent father.

“Peter, I need—”

“Wong, please can we just—”

“Strange is dead, Peter.”

It feels like a sucker punch, Peter almost doubling over at Wong’s words. He can sense Michelle tense next to him, her grip on his leg tightening as Peter freezes. 

“He’s… what? What happened?”

“Come to the Sanctum, Peter. Please.” Wong hangs up.

Peter sees the familiar gold glints of a portal open, watches as Wong waves his hand – inviting Peter in from his living room.

The look on Wong’s face confirms it, Peter still in disbelief.

Strange was dead.

Peter didn’t know what to say.

* * *

Michelle stayed behind in the apartment, promising that she understood. Would wait for him to come back. 

As Peter waited in one of the Sanctum’s cold rooms, a shiver running down his spine, Peter’s leg bounces up and down. He wrings his hand together, waiting for Wong to return.

Wong had told him what happened, some kind of magical event that Peter on any other day would’ve grasped. But now, he’s torn – feeling like he’s stuck in a fog he can’t get out of.

The world had lost another defender. Another loss Peter couldn’t stop.

He didn’t care for Strange, didn’t love him like his parents, like Ben.

Like Tony.

But something still ached in Peter, the idea of losing someone else in his life – no matter how tangential. No matter how difficult their relationship, or lack thereof, had been.

Before Peter can wrestle with it anymore, Wong returns – letter in hand.

“What’s that?” Peter asks, his throat suddenly dry. He needs water, he forgot to ask. Wong hadn’t offered.

“Strange had… he’d left this. For you. I was told to give it to you in the event of his…” Peter looks up to Wong’s eyes, seeing them glisten. Peter nods wordlessly, taking it from him as he stands.

He taps his fingers against it, debating something within himself before he opens up his mouth.

“Wong, I—”

“He trusted you, Peter. I hope you know that.” Peter’s head snaps up, watching as the tears fall down Wong’s face.

“I know you two didn’t see eye to eye. For a number of reasons.” Wong’s chin wobbles slightly before his lips press firmly together. His back straightens.

“But I do know that he trusted you. I just wanted you to know that.”

Peter’s unsure of what to say, the letter he’s holding feeling like lead in his hands. Before he can come up with something else to say, the familiar gold glints envelop him.

He looks up to Wong, noting the sad look in his face.

And then Peter’s back in his apartment. Wong gone.

Strange was dead.

* * *

Michelle had rubbed his back when he arrived, taking his disappearance and reappearance in stride. Even now – the shock of Strange’s death, the letter weighing heavily in Peter’s hands, the last words to him from a man he hadn’t trusted in years – Peter is thankful that he has Michelle.

That she leads him into the bedroom, sits him on their bed before quietly leaving, seemingly understanding without him saying anything that whatever he’s holding – whatever words Strange had for him – Peter had to read alone.

He closes his eyes, hands shaking as he tries to stable himself. Tries to make sense of the warring emotions running through his mind.

Peter didn’t trust Strange, barely tolerated him on missions. He didn’t hold on to the old hurt and pain so much, couldn’t even say he was necessarily _angry_ with him anymore.

But Peter didn’t care for him, never tried to make it appear otherwise.

And yet now, Strange was gone.

Peter had nothing to say.

As he opens the letter though, Peter realizes that Strange apparently did.

_Peter. By now, Wong has told you the news._

_I told no one about this. Not even Wong knew what would happen. But it would always be this way for me. My time has ended._

_As you well know, we cannot fight our destiny._

_An old friend once told me that we don’t get to choose our time. That death is what gives our lives meaning, knowing our days are numbered._

_I know these words may seem trite to you, a man who has encountered so much loss and death in your life._

_For my own part in that, I’m truly sorry._

_It was never my intention to hurt you, Peter. Not then. Not now._

_But seeing you now – a man who has truly become the very best of us – I can’t help but be proud of having the opportunity to watch you grow up._

_It is the biggest regret of my life that Tony did not get to witness it as well._

_I’ve spent much of my time on this earth seeing multiple universes, multiple destinies – all the ways that our dimension intermingles with others. I could not protect Tony from his fate in our world. But after seeing what I did – the worlds I’ve observed – I can only hope that I was able to help give you the life you deserve._

_Congratulations Peter. I wish you, Michelle and your child all the best in this world._

_I trust that no matter where fate takes you next, you will make the right choice for yourself._

_You always do._

_Strange._

Peter blinks back the tears he hadn’t realized he was holding, hands still shaking as he folds the letter. He lifts himself off the bed and opens the bedroom door, only to see Michelle – her face tentative, looking on in concern – waiting for him.

He lets himself fall into her arms, closing his eyes as Michelle held him.

He and Strange had no real relationship to speak of, could hardly consider themselves to be friends.

It hits him that despite the congratulations, Peter had never even told Strange about the baby.

As Michelle holds him, Peter letting the grief wash over him, his mind is struck by the tenderness of Strange’s words.

The world had yet again lost another defender, a death that Peter couldn’t have prevented.

Listening to Michelle’s heartbeat, holding on to the sound of his little hummingbird, Peter’s thoughts can only revolve on the last words of Strange’s letter.

_I trust that no matter where fate takes you next, you will make the right choice for yourself._

_You always do._

Peter can’t fathom what Strange means, doesn’t understand the kindness in the words. But holding on to Michelle – to his hummingbird – Peter thinks to himself that it didn’t matter what happened next.

Didn’t matter what choices Strange seemed to think was in store for him.

Holding Michelle – his little hummingbird – Peter’s convinced that no matter what happens…

He would do anything to keep them safe.

* * *

Barely a week after Strange’s passing and the letter still weighs on him. He can hear Karen rambling on about something, tunes in and out with the city around him.

He’s brought out of it with an alert from Michelle, Karen letting him know of their updated ultrasound appointment.

Peter smiles, flipping a hand out as he swings.

“Let Michelle know I’m on my way. Or does she want me to meet her there?”

“I’ve sent her a text with that message. I think you should go with her Peter.” He laughs.

“Oh I’ll be there but you already know how much she hates to be coddled.” As he swings, Peter feels an inkling of something like nervousness – something he attributes to the first time he’ll actually get to see his hummingbird for real. He swings another hand out.

“True Peter, but from what I’ve found – expectant mothers may express one desire while meaning something else entirely.” He just laughs again, the nervousness making his stomach churn. “Yeah, I know but come on Karen. It’s Michelle. I think she’d just tell me what she’s thinking.”

Karen gives off some reply, but Peter doesn’t hear it, the churning in his stomach turning into something more frazzled.  

His senses are going haywire, Peter swinging towards whatever it is that’s pulling him closer.

He sees a kid glancing down at something, sees a glimmer of something almost familiar to him as we swings closer.

“Kid, move it! Move it!” Peter yells. But the kid doesn’t hear him, just keeps walking forward – almost called to something that’s making Peter’s stomach churn.

He swings the kid away, only to return back to where the kid had been. Peter’s senses are screaming at him but there’s something pulling him in, almost beckoning him to get closer.

The shimmering glint of something Peter had almost forgotten, a memory that he had long buried comes up. Something’s wrong, something’s wrong something’s—

And then he feels it. The crack of the lightning, white hot and blinding, familiar and foreign all at the same time. He knows this feeling. Knows what this means.

A portal. A rift in time.

Strange had closed them all. He’d closed them, hadn’t he? Hadn’t Wong mentioned something to that effect? Was this what had caused Strange’s death?

It hits Peter like a sledgehammer – Strange’s words from all those years ago.

_“You will not only be blinded to the rifts but would be unable to pass through them. So long as I am alive, you will not leave this timeline Peter.”_

Peter panics. Remembers Doctor Strange’s warnings, how his body – his mind – wouldn’t be able to handle another trip through dimensions.

The hurt, the anger, the pain he had felt all those years before is gone, replaced only with the panic of what leaving this world would mean.

As the lightning shocks his entire body, the pain overwhelming him, Peter’s only thoughts are to Michelle… to his little hummingbird… waiting for him.

Peter is falling, grasping, knowing that he can’t let himself be taken.

He can’t leave them. He can’t leave them. He won’t.

He tries to stay, wills himself to stop, doesn’t know if he can.

All Peter knows is that he’s falling, falling…

The darkness overtakes him.

Until Peter doesn’t know anything at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please yell at me in the comments, it's nice to know I'm not shouting into the void. 
> 
> Cause Peter certainly is.
> 
>  :)
> 
> You can also come hang out with me on [tumblr](http://seek-rest.tumblr.com).


	8. Trodden Black.

_Lines of purples. Green. Deep blues. It’s everywhere. Peter is everywhere._

_Glimpses. May’s laughter. Tony’s scream. MJ crying. Peter can’t make sense of it, it’s everywhere, the feeling of it – the emotions, the agony, the joy, and the pain._

_Peter is falling, tumbling endlessly through the darkness, the light, it’s everywhere._

_Peter is everywhere._

_His head turns, he thinks it turns. Is there movement? Is he moving? All he knows is falling, falling endlessly through and around._

_Peter turns, searching, grasping. The darkness is there. The light is everywhere. Peter can’t take it._

_It’s too much. It’s everywhere._

_He’s everywhere._

_And then Peter is nowhere at all._

* * *

 

He stops.

Hands frantic across his body, Peter blinks and tries to make sense of where he is.

He’s in his old apartment, he thinks. There’s electricity in the air, a haze of something that signifies that this is familiar.

Peter’s senses are still going haywire, indicating that something is terribly wrong.

He’s in his old bedroom, the room looking similar yet different all at the same time.

He’s outside of the Spider-Man suit, can see a dusty Lego creation in the corner.

Peter closes his eyes, focusing on the sounds on the block they’re on, the apartment complex, and eventually the apartment itself.

It’s the usual humdrum of Queens, Mr. Udo practicing his flute, people honking their horns and cursing out strangers.

He hears the heartbeat in the apartment, recognizes that he’s not alone.

_This isn’t real. This isn’t real. This isn’t my home._

Peter runs this chant over and over in his head as he opens his eyes and walks to his bedroom door, willing himself to remember it.

He hadn’t spoken with Strange much about their rooftop incident all those years ago, had never asked for clarity on what exactly would’ve happened to him had he not been transported back home.

But there’s a deep-seated part of Peter that’s telling him – a quiet whisper – that if he doesn’t focus, doesn’t concentrate, he’ll start to forget.

Peter cannot afford to forget. Refused to forget about Michelle.

About his little hummingbird.

He opens the door, tentatively looks out.

May’s not in, at least. Peter recognizes that there’s another person in the apartment with him, but May’s telltale perfume – vanilla, hints of cinnamon – is nowhere to be found.

He steps out, looks toward the living room before stopping.

Peter hears humming then soft singing..

A song he hadn’t heard in years. Over a decade.

His heart stops.

“ _The tide is high and I’m holding on, I’m gonna be your number one…_ ” The voice hums, a voice that Peter would recognize anywhere.

Peter takes another step forward, blinks his eyes to focus. It can’t be.

And yet, there he is.

Ben.

* * *

  
It had been a silly thing between he and May, a song they had dance to at their wedding.

Peter had always thought it was cheesy but had always smiled when they sang it to each other.

May had stopped singing for a long time after Ben had died.

Yet here Ben was, humming along to himself as if there was nothing wrong.

As if Peter’s entire world hadn’t just shattered at the sight of Ben – the man he considered to be more of a father than his own, than even Tony had been – singing to himself without a care in the world.

As if he could hear Peter’s thoughts, Ben turns and smiles at Peter.

“Hey Pete, you get what you need from your room?”

Peter blinks then straightens himself. “Uh yeah, yeah I think. I, uh…”

Peter can’t help but stare at Ben and feel like he’s fourteen all over again.

It had been almost a decade since Ben passed, and yet Peter is stricken with the knowledge that Ben was here.

Alive.

In front of him.

Ben was alive.

Peter smiles. Then stops.

_Where was May?_

* * *

 

  
Peter’s breath catches in his throat, the remembrance that this wasn’t right.

This wasn’t where he was supposed to be.

Ben wasn’t alive in his world anymore. 

And yet there he was, the corner of his eyes crinkling, Peter feeling a crack within himself at the sight of Ben as his face turned into a look of concern.

“Peter are you alright?”

“I… I, uh…” Peter feels like he can’t breathe, his thoughts overwhelming him.

Ben was here.

Ben was right in front of him. This was Ben.

His Ben. Ben was alive.

_But where was May?_

“Where’s May?” Peter blurts it out without thinking, feeling more and more like the child he’d been when Ben had died.

A look of remorse, then confusion passes through Ben’s face. He sets the coffee mug he’d had in hand down, never breaking eye contact with Peter.

“Peter, why… why would you ask that?”

A part of Peter breaks, closing his eyes as he takes in a shaky breath.

Another universe. Another timeline.

Ben was alive. _Ben was alive._

But May was dead.

Peter wondered if there was ever a timeline, ever a world, or a universe, that allowed him to be fully and completely happy.

He shakes off the thought, steadies himself as he opens his eyes and looks back at Ben.

“I’m sorry, Ben. I’m… I don’t know. Not feeling well, I guess?”

He tries to laugh, sees the look of concern still all over Ben’s face.

“They work you too hard at that Bugle, you know.” Ben offers, a short nod of his head.

Peter laughs, genuinely this time.

Something about the tone, the inflection in Ben’s voice – it’s not Ben, it’s not his Ben – almost brings tears to his eyes.

Before he can think better of it, convince himself that it’s a bad idea, he rushes towards Ben – throws his arms around him.

“Oh, whoa there, you alright bud?”

Peter doesn’t answer, just deepens the hug as Ben encloses his hands over his body.

Ben’s heartbeat is soft, steady.

As Peter burrows his head into his uncle’s next, holding on tightly, he’s stricken with the memory of the last time he’d held Ben.

When Ben had died in his arms.

He pushes the memory out his head, tries to soak in the warmth, the realness of Ben in his arms.

It wasn’t his Ben. Peter couldn’t stay.

But God, he wished he could.

“I’m fine, I’m fine, Ben. Just…”

He sniffles, heart breaking as he tears himself away. “Just glad I stopped by.”

Ben smiled, Peter biting his lip to stop the tears that were threatening to form.

Ben puts a hand to Peter’s shoulder, a firm grip.

“You know you’re welcome any time, Pete.”

“I know, Ben.” Peter feels the tears in his eyes forming, quickly breaks out of Ben’s embrace before he could see.

“You know, I, uh… I think I actually still forgot something, in my old room? Can I, uh—go check it out again?”

Ben only laughs, waves him off.

“Like I tell you everytime, kiddo. Doesn’t matter how old you get, it’ll always be your room.” Peter closes his eyes, turns his head as a tear falls down.

Peter walks towards his bedroom, only stops when Ben calls out.

“You gonna stay for dinner, Pete?”

He stops. Heart aching.

Peter quickly wipes the tear from his face and turns to Ben.

Commits the image to memory – Ben, alive, in his pajamas, coffee cup in hand.

Peter smiles.

“Sure thing, Ben. I’ll just be a second.” Ben smiles in return, the sight of it warming Peter and breaking his heart simultaneously.

Peter turns back to his room, closes the door and puts his back to it, letting the tears fall.

Ben was alive here. _Ben was alive._

But May wasn’t.

He didn’t have Michelle.

His little hummingbird.

Peter had to get back to them.

He wracks his brain to try and remember what had happened the last time he’d been in this predicament, could only remember that he’d tried to fall asleep, had gotten into bed and wished for himself to be gone.

It can’t be that simple.

Peter blinks, a ringing in his ears.

_Maybe it is._

The ringing grows louder as Peter climbs into his small twin bed, curls up in the fetal position. He was too tall for the bed now, but

Peter doesn’t care.

He closes his eyes, listens for the steady heartbeat of Ben still in the living room.

Peter thinks of May. Of May. His little hummingbird.

Inexplicably, he thinks of Tony – the ringing in his ears growing louder and louder.

_I wonder if Tony is alive in this universe._

The light is back, white hot and blinding.

Peter is thrown into darkness once more.

* * *

 

  
He groans, hand to his head.

“Hey, are you alright?” Peter’s head turns, a little too quickly, wincing as he turns to look at a kid – staring at him.

Petet was on the ground, cold and sprawled out as if he’d fallen.

“Uh, yeah, yeah I’m fine, kid. Thanks.” Peter groans as he sits up, running through a mental checklist of injuries but finding none.

“Where are we? Is this… are we in New York?”

“Yeah?” The kid just stares at Peter. He looks around, tries to get a sense of the city.

It feels familiar. Nothing immediately sets off his senses, the ringing gone.

_Am I home?_

“Is it Halloween?”

Peter’s head turns to him, then around.

The air is cold, Peter remembers that Michelle had mentioned that there was a possibility of rain. But it was July. Peter stands.

“Nah, kid. Halloween’s not for another couple of months.”

“Oh. Okay.” The kid just stares at him, Peter smiling under the mask.

“See you kid.”

The kid only stares, eyes widening as Peter flicks a hand out.

Peter laughs, thinking that he’d never get used to the look of awe, almost surprise that civilians tend to have.

“Hey Karen, how long was I out?”

He’s met with silence, Peter confused.

His trip through the cosmos hadn’t affected Karen the last time around, but then – that was years ago.

Peter had recently updated Karen, knew that anytime he tinkered too much she took some time to adjust.

Peter didn’t need help fixing his tech, but he also wasn’t an idiot. Asked for help when he needed it.

He glances around, sees the Tower in his view.

Bruce should be in, he was always willing to help Peter out.

Peter swings himself towards the Tower, a low sense of dread building up.

There’s something in the air that doesn’t sit right with Peter, but he ignores it.

He can’t focus right now, just needs to get Karen fixed so he can make it in time for the ultrasound appointment.

Make it back to Michelle.

To his little hummingbird.

He lands softly on the balcony, surprised as the alarms start ringing.

“FRIDAY, what the hell?”

She doesn’t answer, Peter tentatively walking forward. His senses are muted, warring with himself with the dread whirling around in his stomach.

He’s not in danger. And yet…

Peter takes another stop, only to freeze at the voice he hears.

“Stay where you are!”

Peter is frozen, stricken in place.

_It can’t be…_

The glass doors slide open, confirming for Peter the voice he’d know anywhere.

Peter suddenly forgets to breathe.

Because there he was in front of him, standing and looking as solid and as real as anything Peter could have dreamt it.

It can’t be… It can’t be real.

And yet it is.

As real as the heartbeat Peter can hear emanating in front of him.

Tony Stark steps into the light.

Peter lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

_Tony’s alive._

 

 

* * *

 

 

END OF PART TWO

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I saw FFH and I LOVED IT!!! I have so much planned but don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten about this story. 
> 
> The idea for this chapter (and the next) are literally what inspired me to write this story. Buckle up my dudes.
> 
> I love it when people yell at me in the comments.


	9. Way Leads on to Way.

PART THREE

 

* * *

 

 

Peter is frozen, stuck in place. 

The man - _Tony, it’s Tony_ \- walks hesitantly towards him, his face filled with caution and slight anger.

“Who the hell are you?”

Peter’s throat feels dry, almost as if he can’t breathe. 

He’d did it. He’d finally done it. 

The memory of the pain, the misery he’d felt in the months after Tony had died comes rushing back to him. The immeasurable ache, the quiet and sinking desolation that permeated his entire being. 

Peter had mourned for Tony. Endlessly, mourned for him. 

He hadn’t moved on - Peter knew well that you could never move _on_ from death - but he’d made his peace with it, as best he could.

He’d graduated high school.

Gone to college.

Was on the brink of getting married. 

Months away from becoming a father. 

And yet, standing there - feet away from the man that had completely upended Peter’s life - almost devastated him. 

The man he’d spent years idolizing only to know personally, to feel as he crumbled away into nothing, to watch that same man die in front of him in a blaze of glory, agony and light a few hours later. 

Peter was a grown man.

Yet standing there in front of Tony - _it’s not his Tony, but God, it’s Tony_ \- made Peter feel like he was fifteen all over again, stomach doing flip flops as if he was encountering him for the first time in that dingy, small apartment. 

Peter’s silent for a moment too long, because Tony speaks up again.

“I said, who… the hell… are you?”

Peter watches as the watch on his hand transforms into a mini-gauntlet, arms poised and ready to attack. The familiar whine of the gauntlet brings Peter out of his frozen state, eyes blinking fast as he thinks. 

This Tony - _it wasn’t his Tony, it could never be his Tony_ \- may not even know who Peter Parker is, could be demented or evil or whatever the hell Ned had theorized all those years ago when they’d talked about the multiverse. 

But if Peter’s sure of anything, he can only hope that regardless of who this Tony Stark is - maybe he can get through to him. Peter puts his hands up. 

“My name’s Peter Parker. I know you’re Tony Stark, you’re a wife, uh girlfriend maybe, is Pepper Potts and she’s the CEO of Stark Industries.” 

Tony stops, eyes widening. Peter continues. 

“Your best friend is Colonel James Rhodes, but you call him Rhodey. Sometimes platypus, honeybear and some other random nicknames I can’t remember right now.” Peter takes a breath, watching as Tony - seemingly frozen in place - takes him in. 

Taking that as a good sign, Peter continues.

“You have a personal driver named Happy Hogan. His real name’s Harold but he never goes by that. I don’t know why he goes by Happy… I never asked…” Peter trails off, only to snap up as Tony disengages the gauntlet. 

Peter freezes, waiting to see - wishing he knew what was running through Tony’s mind. 

He’s surprised to watch as tears form in his eyes, Tony’s hand going to his face as his mouth opens.

“Kid?”

Peter tentatively nods.

“You know me?”

Tony lets out a sharp laugh, then stops, head shaking.

“This is a trick right? Fury’s just fucking with me right now?” His eyes harden. 

“If so, that’s a hell of a joke to make with me.”

Peter shakes his head once more. “No, no. It’s… me. I mean, probably not _your_ you. But…” He swallows, watching as the expression on Tony’s face changes into one of remorse. 

“It’s me, Tony. It’s Peter.”

Whatever Peter had imagined would be his response, he couldn’t have expected what came next. 

Tony - gauntlet completely removed - takes the two strides needed to crash into Peter, arms wide and grip just as firm as it’d been on the battlefield in upstate New York all those years ago.

Peter immediately returns the embrace, closing his eyes as he takes in the warmth of the hug, the faint scent of gasoline and Tony’s cologne enclosing around him. 

_This isn’t my Tony. This isn’t my Tony._

But Peter can’t bring himself to care. Especially when Tony, not even a moment later speaks the words that broke Peter in a way that was all too familiar to him. 

“I thought I’d lost you, kid.” 

* * *

Peter knows he’s in a different universe, knows that the world around him is entirely foreign to his own.

He’s still surprised at how similar it is. 

Tony is still the man he knew - smart, sarcastic, a heart far too deep and willing to sacrifice himself in the face of relentless danger. 

He is still married to Pepper, still has Morgan - both of which are happily residing in a lake house that Tony still inexplicably owns. 

He’d only arrived to the Tower by accident, some thought nagging at him in the back of his mind to come in and check on some projects. 

Peter’s not surprised to hear that Tony - this Tony - had retired from the Iron Man label in this world. 

He is surprised to find that in this one, it was he who had died. 

In Peter’s darkest days, back when the grief had been raw and almost unbearable, he’d fantasize about holding on the gauntlet - about rushing forward to grab it from Tony before he could’ve snapped his fingers and faded into oblivion. 

It had only been a fleeting thought, a passing and aching chance of what at the time - had been Peter’s biggest regret. 

But here, now - in a workshop that was all too similar to the one that he knew Bruce now inhabited - Peter tried to reckon with the reality that this Tony had faced. 

“So tell me again, how exactly did you get here?” Tony paces, eyes seemingly never moving too far away from where Peter was sitting.

He could relate, could fully understand the look Tony was giving him. Peter almost felt as if the expression on his face could mirror it. 

It was as if Peter moved his eyes away, if he blinked to long, than the realness of Tony standing in front of him would fade away.

Peter shrugs his shoulders, head shaking.

“I’m… not really sure, Tony. Strange had mentioned that it was some kind of rift in time, some kind of crack in the universe because of the snap.” Tony tenses at the mention of it, but doesn’t speak up. Peter continues. 

“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen a rift, honestly. I… I happened across this one by accident.” Peter’s voice wobbles a bit, the memory of Strange’s death still pressing on him. 

_So long as I am alive, you will not leave this timeline Peter._

Strange wasn’t alive anymore. For whatever reason, whatever Strange had encountered that had been the end of him, it had opened up Peter to drifting through new worlds all over again. Peter sighs, eyes scanning the lab once more.

“It’s crazy how similar this place is to mine.”

“You call me Tony.” Peter’s head snaps back to Tony’s gaze, watching as Tony taps his fingers together.

“Yeah… yeah, I guess I do.” 

“You say I died in your universe though?” Peter grimaces,

“Yeah… I guess, I guess in this one we switched places.” Tony’s eyes harden, a fire that Peter hadn’t seen in a long time behind them.

“It never should’ve been you, kid.” 

Peter shakes his head.

“And it shouldn’t have been you, Tony.” He looks into Tony’s eyes, sees the grief so familiar to his own mirrored back to him. “But here we are.” 

Tony gives his a head a curt nod, seemingly trying - and failing - to swallow back the tears threatening to form. He turns his head, Peter giving him the space to process the impossible.

Peter didn’t know how well this Tony had processed this grief, though from their brief interaction he could figure that he and Pepper had created something of a good life for the two of them. That Morgan seemed to be just as quick smart and funny as she was in his own universe. 

But there’s a sadness that lingers around Tony, a heaviness that Peter knows all too well. 

Peter had never gotten over the death of Tony Stark - no matter how happy his life had become. 

And it seemed that Tony, this Tony, had felt the same about him. 

Tony paces for a few minutes, seemingly wrestling within himself before sighing. He takes a stool, drags it till it’s situated in front of Peter. His eyes are glistening with tears, Peter feeling his own forming. 

“Here we are.” Peter smiles, Tony looking at him in disbelief.

“God, kid… you’re… you’re not even a kid anymore are you? Is that stubble? How old are you?” Peter laughs. 

“Twenty-three.” Tony whistles. 

“Wow, Pete. You go to college? MIT?” 

Peter’s smile falls just a little, eyes averted. 

“No… stayed in New York.” He brings his eyes back to Tony’s, seeing the concern in them before smiling again. “Columbia, actually. Getting my PhD now.” 

Tony seems to consider what Peter’s saying - the recognition of why his refusal to go to MIT could be deeper than what he’s letting on - but in a beat he deflects it, pressing Peter for more information. 

“Knew you were smart, kid. Never doubted it, any school would be lucky to have you.” Tony crosses his arms, leaning on the lab table. 

“So you got a girl? Guy? Some kind of significant other that keeps you busy?” Peter shakes his head once more, laughing.

“Fiancee, actually. Her name’s Michelle.” Speaking her name hits something in Peter, a feeling of something almost like guilt. 

Less than an hour ago - _was it an hour? How long had it been_ \- all his focus had been on returning to Michelle, to his little hummingbird.

Yet here he was, shooting the shit with Tony - relishing a reunion he could previously have only dreamed of. 

But he had to get back to them. Had to go back. 

Peter couldn’t stay.

If Tony notices the darkness that passes over Peter, he doesn’t call attention to it. Instead he presses Peter further.

“Michelle is it? That wouldn’t happen to be the same Michelle you…” Tony stops. 

“Well… the you _here_. You had a crush on a girl named Michelle. Went by MJ on some days?” 

Peter smiled, a part of him warming at the thought that no matter the world - no matter the universe - he and Michelle still seemed to find each other.

“Yeah, that’s the one.” 

Tony smiles, only the faintest hint of sadness in it. 

“I’m glad, kid. I’m glad… you’re happy.”

“I am, Tony. I…” Peter’s smile taking over his entire face. 

“I’m gonna have a kid.” 

This seems to floor Tony, his mouth opening.

“You… you what?”

Peter only grins, nodding in excitement. 

“A baby. Just found out a couple of weeks ago.” 

Tony’s silent for a moment. Then quirks his lips. 

“I’ll be damned. Peter Parker’s had sex.” 

The laugh that shakes out of Peter is booming, his entire body shaking. The tears that had threatened to overtake him fall endlessly now, as he laughs. 

Through his bleary eyes, the laugh overtaking him hurting his stomach, he can see Tony smiling as if the universe had opened up for him. 

Being with Tony was like filling a part of his heart that hadn’t been whole. And looking back into Tony’s eyes, Peter wondered if Tony felt the same way. 

The laughter continues for a minute, fading off into a comfortable silence. 

It seems to hit both of them at the same time. 

“You can’t stay, can you?”

Peter closes his eyes, wishing that Tony hadn’t made him remember what he wished couldn’t be true. 

He missed Tony. Missed him just as fiercely as he did his parents, as Ben.

But he couldn’t stay. 

As much as Tony’s presence filled his entire heart and soul with light, the rest of it broke at the idea of leaving behind Michelle. 

Of leaving his little hummingbird behind.

But before Peter can answer, his back straightens - senses going off.

Tony seems to pick up on this, just as soon as Peter moves.

“What’s wrong, Pete?” 

Before Peter can speak, he hears the crackling, the familiar orange and yellow strands swirling around them. 

Both Peter and Tony turn to the corner of the lab, Peter’s heart stopping.

Strange walks in through the portal that’s opened up, expression neutral. 

“Peter Parker.”

Peter’s mouth opens then closes, in disbelief. But before he can answer, Strange’s expression hardens.

“You don’t belong here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have too many WIPS but I love this story too much to let it go. 
> 
> IronDad reunion huh? How about that!?
> 
> Also this story has more chapters now because my brain has too many ideas. CAN'T BE TAMED.
> 
> Please yell at me in the comments! It helps to know I'm not shouting into the void!!!


	10. A Better Claim.

Peter feels frozen - twice in one day - seeing Strange in front of him. 

His senses are still ringing, only slightly muted but still present. This wasn’t his Strange. This wasn’t his Tony. 

This wasn’t his world. 

And yet Peter’s almost… hurt at the animosity, the coldness in Strange’s eyes. 

He hadn’t liked Strange all that much in life - but now, his Strange was dead, and Peter suddenly wondered why he’d been so harsh to him. 

It’s hypocritical, Peter knows this. He can’t suddenly pretend that he misses Strange, that he and Strange had ever been close enough to warrant the sense of loss and confusion over the man now standing in front of him .

But Peter feels it all the same. 

“The hell you doing here, Strange?” Peter almost forgets that Tony is there with him, head turning to see a look on his face that Peter hadn’t expected. 

It’s anger, venomous - charging the atmosphere in the room. 

It’s surprising to Peter, if only for the switch of Tony’s expression - but there’s something more to it. 

Peter recognizes the look on Tony’s face. 

He’d given the same one to Strange for years. 

“What I do is of no concern to you, Stark.” Strange snarks back, eyes going back to Peter’s. It chills him, Strange’s expression. 

“You are an anomaly, I could sense the shift as soon as you arrived.” 

“And? What the hell does that have to do with you, David Copperfield? You didn’t get the memo last time? You got a message for me, you email it. Text it. Carrier pigeon, I don’t care.” Tony takes a step forward, finger pointed towards Strange. 

“Get the fuck out of my Tower.” 

“Tony…” Peter says tentatively, hand outstretched. Strange was right, he didn’t belong here. But there was no reason for Tony to be so… angry. 

_What am I missing here?_

“For what has become an ongoing misunderstanding with you Stark, I don’t work for you.” Strange walks forward - towards Peter - when Tony gets in front of him, Peter touched at the instant protective stance he took, a hand out to cover Peter. 

His senses are still ringing, slightly muted but there all the same. Peter doesn’t quite understand it, but he’s more confused about the exchange between Tony and Strange. 

They hadn’t known each other well in his own timeline, had all of thirty minutes of conversation. 

Yet the bitterness barely contained in Tony’s voice, the simmering hatred that was between the two of them, made Peter just what the hell had happened in this universe to cause this - almost a decade after the snap. 

Even his own complicated relationship with Strange hadn’t been this tense. 

“Move aside, Stark.” 

“Did I stutter, Strange? Get. The fuck. Out.” 

“Hey, hey, hey, why don’t we just… calm down a second?” Tony’s eyes are blazing with fury but he takes a beat, watching as Peter moves out from behind him. 

“Kid…” 

“I got this, Tony.” There’s a flicker of recognition in Tony’s eyes, a sharp flash of remorse before settling into recognition. 

Peter wasn’t a kid anymore. He could handle himself. 

“What do you want from me, Strange?” 

“To send you back to wherever you came from. Your presence here is unwarranted, as the Peter Parker in this universe is no longer with us.” 

“No thanks to you, asshole.” Tony tries to push past Peter but he’s stronger than Tony is, immovable as he looks back to Strange. 

“I understand, I know I… need to get back.” 

Not even a minute ago, Tony had seemed to reconcile this for himself - had seemingly been willing to accept the truth of what Peter had said. 

But suddenly it was as if Tony became a different person, with Strange in the room. 

“You don’t have to do shit, Peter. Least of all what this jackass says.”

“Stark.”

“No, you don’t get to speak, not here. I told you. I want you to get the fuck out of my Tower and my life.” Tony’s hands trembled as he continued  

“You promised me, Strange. You promised you’d protect him, what were your words? ‘No harm will come to him’? Bullshit, Strange.” Tony’s voice is loud and angry, but Peter can hear the wobbling in it. 

“You let him die. Fooled me into thinking that it was the only way but here he is! Alive! From a universe where _another_ you had made the sane decision.” 

“For the last time, I don’t know what you’re talking about Stark. Now move or be moved.”

The gauntlet is activated so fast, Peter almost doesn’t catch it, Tony’s hand outstretched in front of him. 

“Try me, Houdini. See if I don’t blast you into next week.” 

It hits Peter like a gut-punch. The gravity of Tony’s words. The hurt, the anger - it pains Peter to hear Tony to sound so cracked and broken, but it’s the words he’s said - the claim. 

_You promised you’d protect him._

“It wasn’t you.” Peter whispers, Strange and Tony both turning to him. 

“What?” Tony asks, Strange waiting.

“You… you weren’t the one who promised Tony, were you? To protect me?” Strange purses his lips, eyes flitting to Tony’s furious expression before nodding to Peter.

“No. As I’ve said many times before, I don’t know who promised him anything, but it certainly wasn’t me.”

“Like hell it wasn’t. You telling me there’s more of you dressed like---”

“Tony.” Something in Peter’s tone must cause him to stop, glance back to Peter. 

“It wasn’t him.” Tony shakes his head. 

“No, kid. I know I thought you were a Skrull for a hot second but this guy--” Tony pointed to Strange, “Came to me on that ship. Promised he’d keep you safe.” Tony turns back to Peter.

“There were no Skrulls on that flying donut. Just you, me and Dupree alright?” Tony’s jaw sets, turning to face Strange again. 

“He gave up the time stone. Said it was part of the endgame.” Tony lets out a sharp laugh, Peter recognizing there was no humor in his voice as Tony looks into Peter’s eyes. 

“That endgame included you dying, kid. And fuck if that wasn’t the hardest thing I’ve ever had to see.” 

The look in Tony’s eyes is devastating, a feeling that Peter can relate too all too well. But he’s insistent. 

“It wasn’t him, Tony.” 

“Pete…”

“It wasn’t. I think…” Peter gives a glance towards Strange, the sorcerer studying him.

“I think it was mine.” 

* * *

 

Tony sighs, hand to his face as he leaned against the lab bench. He was sitting, waiting for Peter. 

“Explain it to me again.”

“I’m, I’m not sure. I just…” Peter looks toward Strange once more, the man suddenly silent. “I have a feeling that Strange is telling the truth.” Peter turns back to Tony.

“ _Your_ Strange, I mean.” 

Tony puts the hand that was covering his face down so it’s cradling his chin, looking deep into Peter’s eyes. 

There’s an agony in them, dark and miserable that’s threatening to bubble over the surface. Peter recognizes it for what it is. 

_Grief. Unimaginable, aching grief._

Peter doesn’t have to imagine how Tony’s feeling. He’d felt it himself for years. 

Strange - _his_ Strange - had clearly found a way to this universe, maybe multiple ones. Maybe he hadn’t been lying, maybe he really had seen all the possible outcomes, all the possibilities available to him and knew - the one where Tony died had been the best one. 

It still stings, even with Peter standing in front of Tony - _it’s not his Tony_ \- but there’s a part of him that understands Strange better. 

Strange hadn’t promised his Tony. But he _had_ promised Tony. A Tony. This one. 

“So…” Tony puts the hand down to the bench, steadying himself. He looks to Strange, Peter watching as Tony goes through a whirlwind of emotions in thirty seconds. At the end of it, he sighs. 

“What’s the plan then, doc?” 

Strange stays silent, eyes darting between Peter and Tony. 

“I’m not sure.” 

Peter whips his head around, the look in Tony’s hardening. 

“What do you _mean_ you aren’t sure? You were ready to zap this kid out of existence, ready to send _him_ out just as easily as you did…” Tony stops, eyes closing. Peter feels a wave of sympathy flowing through him. 

Peter had lost Tony, the ache of it had felt as if it had burned his insides for months. For years. 

He hadn’t moved on, had learned to live with it and deal. In some morbid way, Peter could recognize that no matter how tragic - how traumatic - there was some sense of normalcy in a child burying their parental figures. 

But now Peter - months away from becoming a father himself - felt a sharp pain at the idea of a father ever having to bury their child. 

His hummingbird wasn’t even born, hadn’t even taken their first breath. And yet Peter was sure he’d crack open the universe, split himself into a million jagged and agonzing pieces, if it meant that his hummingbird - _his child_ \- would be safe. 

Peter had buried Tony. 

But Tony - _this Tony_ \- had buried him. 

The loss of a parent was heartbreaking. 

But the loss of a child was unimaginable. 

“What I’m saying is,” Tony’s voice shaking as it continued, Peter’s heart breaking at the sound, “is that not even ten seconds ago, you were sure of what you were doing. Sure enough that you arrived here unannounced and uninvited.” 

Strange is silent, seemingly lost in thought. 

“So tell me Strange, again. What the hell do you mean when you say you’re not _sure_?” 

Strange closes his eyes. Then opens them again, searching Peter’s. 

“Your Strange. Did he mention any of this to you?” 

Peter winces, a hand scratching the back of his neck.

“In a manner of speaking. We talked about all of this. I--” Peter sends a look towards Tony, “I wasn’t in the best place when the Snap happened. Wanted to find a way to undo it, somehow find a different reality to live in.” 

Tony’s silent as Peter continues. 

“Strange said it was impossible, that he wouldn’t allow it. Made some kind of promise to Tony which now, I guess makes sense.” Peter sighs, waving his hand. “I don’t know, I guess I didn’t understand, but now I do.”

“You said he… wouldn’t allow it. Did something change? Why are you here now?” 

Peter is silent, meeting his gaze. 

A beat.

“Ah.” 

Tony seems to catch on to his meaning, clearing his throat. 

“You’re here now, kid. No reason to rush off so soon. We have time.” Peter turns to him, eyes almost pleading.

He can’t stay. Tony had just acknowledged it. 

But there’s a fire brimming behind Tony’s eyes, a burning for Peter to understand.

_I just got you back. Don’t leave. Not yet._

“I’m afraid time is the one thing we do not have.” Tony glares at Strange. 

“I thought time was your schtick, Copperfield. You let someone else take that thing for a spin?”

Strange ignores the jab, directing his attention to Peter. 

“There’s an instability around you, a fracture that your presence is causing. I cannot let you stay in this timeline, not permanently.” He pauses, taking a deep breath. 

“And yet, it seems the universe appears to be giving you a second chance. Clearly, you’ve found your way here - something pulling you here though it seems clear that in whatever place you’ve found yourself in your own world, you were still pulled through to this one.” 

Peter just stares, waiting. 

“You have a choice, Peter. I cannot allow you to stay… at least, not without closing the rift entirely.” 

“What do you mean?” The hope in Tony’s voice is undeniable, Peter feeling as if there was something catching in the back of his throat. 

“I must close the rift. The Strange in your universe must have recognized something I could not.” Strange’s eyes darken, looking downwards. 

“Whatever it is, it seems as if you have been given the choice - to stay, to go.” His eyes turn back towards Peter.

“But whatever you decide, it’s permanent. I will ensure - in under no circumstances, bound to no one person or thing - that you will not be pulled through the dimensions once more.” 

Peter’s swallows, wishing Strange wasn’t giving him this chance. 

It was everything - _everything_ \- he had hoped for, in the months and years after Tony died. 

He had left the universe with Ned gone, it broke him as he left the one with Ben. 

But here it was - an offer, the chance - to live in the same universe with Tony once again. 

Peter can’t stay. He can’t. 

Michelle was waiting for him. 

His little hummingbird. 

He turns to Tony, heart breaking at the agonizing plea in his eyes. 

He must know that he’s asking Peter for the impossible, must understand as a father himself that there really was no decision to make.

Peter couldn’t stay. He couldn’t. He can’t. 

He turns back to Strange, watching as a look almost like empathy floods his face. 

“You have one day.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do I upload too many times? Yeah probably.  
> Twice in one day? It’s more likely than you think. 
> 
> Feel free to scream at me.


	11. About the Same.

Just as quickly as Strange arrived, he was gone. 

Peter registers that Tony is talking to him, but his thoughts have suddenly gotten too loud - too thunderous. 

 _I can’t stay. I can’t stay. I can’t stay._  

. 

.

.

 _Is Michelle here?_  

It jolts him, the realization of what he’s said, the burning and immediate shame that crawls within him. 

How could he even think - even _entertain_ \- the possibility of staying, when Michelle - _his_ Michelle, his little hummingbird - were waiting for him? 

Loving Michelle was the easiest thing in the world. 

 _You could love this Michelle too._  

He dismisses the thought, shaking his head as he brings his attention back to Tony.

“Pete.” 

“Yeah?” 

Tony is silent, letting the weight of Strange’s offer fall between them. 

Peter knows that Tony must sense the impossible decision placed upon him, must even recognize that he’s asking something of Peter that even Tony had been reluctant to even give. 

And yet he had. 

Tony had risked everything to bring the universe - to bring _Peter_ \- back. He loved Morgan, Peter knew that - not just from the man standing in front of him, but from the stories that Happy and Pepper told. 

If this Tony was anything like his, Peter had no doubt of his love for his daughter. 

Morgan had been the bright, shining star in Tony’s universe in the five years after the Snap. A daughter he had loved with every fiber of his being. 

And yet Tony had still risked everything for the chance to bring Peter back. 

As he searches Tony’s eyes, another wave of compassion flows through him. 

This was an impossible decision. One that Peter can’t - shouldn’t - make. 

_But what if there’s a chance?_

_What if Michelle’s here too?_

_._

_._

_._

_What if I stay?_  

* * *

 

“You’re going to love it, kid. The cabin’s got state of the art tech. What am I saying? Of course it does, it’s mine.” Tony is rambling, Peter’s mind whirring as he nods. 

It had been a last-minute decision, to visit Tony’s cabin upstate. Peter didn’t have the heart to tell him that he was intimately aware of the cabin, knew it just as well as he did his own apartment. 

But this was another universe after all, everything could be different. 

 _Michelle could be different._  

_Michelle could be here._

* * *

 

They stop for coffee in the city, Tony’s impatience getting the best of him. 

“I’d fly us out there kid, but I took a car out. I know that cuts into our… time,” Peter winces at the pain of his words as Tony continues, “But there’s not a full suit around in a 200 mile radius. And if we’re heading up there, I need a caffeine fix. Come on, you’ll like this place.” 

He taps the dashboard, sliding out of the car with ease. Peter exits out the passenger side. 

Peter knows Tony is putting on a bold front, can read between the tic of his hands and the sharpness of his posture that he’s putting in entirely too much effort in trying to pretend that this was normal. 

Peter had the chance to give Tony everything he had probably dreamed of for the past six years. Longer, if he counted the time Peter had been gone from the Snap.

It’s agonizing to Peter, to wrestle with the pain that this Tony has undoubtedly carried with him for over a decade. If the tragedy of watching - in his own perspective - Tony knighting him on alien ship to dying all in one day had been miserable for him, he can only imagine this from Tony’s perspective. 

To mentor his Peter, watch him turn to dust in his arms. To create a life even in the midst of grief, do the impossible five years later and bring his Peter back - only for him to die once again, horrifically and painfully, just moments later. 

Despite what every single one of his enemies had tried to claim over the years, Tony Stark was not a selfish man. 

Tony had to know the impossible - unfathomable - decision placed in front of him. 

But even Peter knew that Tony would be lying if he didn’t wish that Peter would consider it. 

_If the situation was reversed - if it was my child - wouldn’t I want them to do the same?_

He follows Tony into the nondescript coffee shop, the bell jingling as they walk in. 

It strikes Peter that people seem unfazed by Tony’s appearance. The man was older, yes - gray hair, his skin more weathered and with more lines than what Peter remembered - but he was still undeniably Tony Stark.

Tony seems to pick up on this. 

“I’m an old hand now, Pete. World’s got new heroes to take over things. You ever hear of the Storms?” 

Peter make a face. “Like the weather?” 

Tony laughs, getting into line. “Nah, kid. Just as constant though but infinitely more annoying.” 

As Tony continues, Peter half-listens as he looks around the coffee shop, taking in his surroundings. 

It’s quiet, quaint for a Thursday - though it strikes Peter that even if it had been Thursday in his universe, he wonders if it was the same in this one. 

There’s music softly playing in the background, an indie beat that Peter doesn’t - and likely wouldn’t - recognize. It brings a smile to his face. 

Peter hadn’t always been a fan of coffee, but he’d grown to love it. If he was honest, it was less the coffee he had become enamored with, but rather the coffee shops he used to visit. 

The coffee shops he’d seen with Michelle. 

* * *

 

“Peter, we’ve been here before.”

“Nope. This is the last one the list.” Michelle sighs, Peter peeking in through the window. 

He knew half of her annoyance stemmed from the fact that it was six o’clock in the morning, Peter having picked her up outside her apartment twenty minutes ago. 

Michelle hated waking up early. Hated _being_ up early. 

But they’d had a plan. And if they pulled this off, they’d finally be able to finish it. 

“They’re closed, Pete.” 

“They’re not! It says so on the window, look!” Peter points towards the hours listed plainly in front of Michelle, indicating that the coffee shop was supposed to have opened thirty minutes ago.

It was a gimmick kind of coffee shop, the ones Michelle hated with a fiery passion. The schtick was that it was only open for an hour, every three hours, and only served flat whites in twelve ounce biodegradable cups. 

It was ridiculous and cheesy, but Peter and Michelle had committed to going to every single coffee shop in Brooklyn. 

It’d taken them a few months to get across Queens, another several to get through the Bronx. If they managed to pull this off, they would’ve finally crossed off the trifecta. 

Peter pushed for Manhattan but Michelle had quickly shot that down, arguing that neither her bladder nor her kidneys - especially non-super-powered ones like Peter’s - could handle that much caffeine on a daily basis. 

Michelle glances towards the sign, before dramatically making a show of the window Peter had been looking into - the one that was dark, slightly dusty and looked completely empty. 

“Did you suddenly add night-vision or something to your powers?” 

“What?” Peter turns to her, confused.

“Cause there’s no one here. Clearly, they’re closed.” Michelle yawns, Peter ignoring the awkward joke as he turned back to the coffee shop. 

It wasn’t a big deal, really. They’d run into this situation before, finding a coffee shop that they’d added to their list only for it to have closed down by the time they got around to it. 

But this time, crossing this one off the list, meant something to Peter.

They’d had their first kiss outside of a coffee shop. It was only a week or so until their first anniversary. 

Peter knew Michelle wasn’t the most sentimental person, but she still liked the little things. Peter had just wanted to do something special. Something to signify the milestone they were finally crossing. Having a coffee from the last shop on their list had seemed like a cool idea.

He should’ve guessed Parker luck wouldn’t give him the chance.

“Yeah… I guess you’re right.” Peter doesn’t try to hide the disappointment in his voice, tightening his backpack across his shoulders. 

He sees the look on Michelle’s face, her eyes narrowing as it searched his. Peter knows she’s studying him, trying to figure out why exactly he’s so disappointed. 

And like she always does, she figures it out before Peter even gets the chance to say it. 

“This was an anniversary thing.”

Peter bites his lips. “Yeah, kinda.”

Michelle sighs, less out of exasperation and more like vague sympathy. 

“You know it’s not that big of a deal, Pete.”

“I know, but—“

“Surprises. Not anniversaries.” She interjects, causing Peter to pause.

Michelle smiles, a common occurrence now in the almost year they’d been officially dating. 

“Spending time with your dumbass is gift enough, Parker.”

Peter grins, then leans in.

The kiss is soft, sweet. Nothing like their first, a mess of awkwardness and brushing noses. 

They part, Michelle reaching out for his hand.

“Come on Parker, take me to breakfast.”

Peter just laughs, takes her hand and smiles as they walked down the street. 

* * *

 

The memory of that failed anniversary date still warms Peter, years and years later. 

He loved Michelle. Loving her was the easiest thing in the world. 

It was a surety, the love he has for. The feeling that no matter what universe they’re in, they would find a way together. 

Peter would like to believe that the Michelle of this universe, if she knew him – could love him right back.

But this wasn’t his Michelle. It couldn’t be. 

Peter’s convinced that leaving her would be unfathomable. He couldn’t leave her. He wouldn’t dare to. Wouldn’t dream of it. 

Because it wasn’t just Michelle he’d be leaving.

The shame burns with him, the idea of even dreaming - of even _considering_ \- the possibility of staying. 

Peter is convinced that no matter the world, the universe - he and Michelle could find each other, would love each other.

But could Peter really risk doing that, risking it all - and letting go of his little hummingbird?

The sound of their child’s heartbeat had followed him for weeks, almost months before he had ever recognized the sound. And yet now - Peter wondered how he had ever lived without it. 

How could he even begin to dream or think or consider giving that up, even for another lifetime with Tony? 

He turns to listen to Tony once more, eyes glancing over the coffee shop as the bell rings before he freezes. 

It’s a sound he would know anywhere, a rhythm he’d spent years learning. Tony recognizes Peter’s instant change of posture, eyes full of concern. 

“Pete?” 

It’s as if the world stops - as if everyone and everything has stopped breathing. All Peter can hear now is the steady beating of her heart, the sound almost eclipsing his own. 

Peter turns, knowing with absolute certainty - knowing before he even sees her - of who had just walked in.

It takes his breath away all the same.

Because there she is. 

 _Michelle._  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don’t hate me, I know this chapter is a tease. I plan on posting the next one in a few days. Can you believe this story is almost over??? I CAN’T AND I’M EMO ABOUT IT.


	12. All the Difference.

For all of his precognitive senses, Peter’s completely blindsided with Michelle being in front of him. 

Tony responds a half-second after Peter does, grabbing him roughly by the arm. 

“Come on, kid. We gotta go.” 

“Tony, I--”

But before Peter can even protest, Tony moves him - Peter too much in shock to protest. Tony ducks out of line, moves past those behind them with Peter in tow. He glances towards Michelle, eyes looking down at her phone. She hadn’t noticed him, had no reason to. 

She doesn’t know he’s there. 

It’s an ache, bleeding and deep. She’s there.  _ Michelle’s right there. _

Peter’s out of the coffee shop before he can even reach a hand out. 

* * *

“What the hell? What are you--” Peter wrenches his arm out of Tony’s grasp easily, Tony’s eyes pleading.

“Do you or do you not understand what could’ve happened had she seen you?” Peter glances back to the coffee shop window, his own heart thundering in his ears as he sees the back of her head. 

_ Michelle.  _

_ It’s Michelle.  _

_ She’s here. _

“Tony, it’s... “

“It’s not your Michelle, Pete.” 

Peter turns his head, facing Tony with a look of hurt before it switches into something angrier. 

“Tony…”

Tony grabs for him once more but Peter takes a step back, his mind reeling. 

It’s not his Michelle. It won’t ever be his Michelle. 

_ She’s here.  _

“I just wanted to--”

“Peter, look at me. Listen to me, focus.” Tony’s pleas are desperate now, Peter willing himself to look at the man. 

“Think Pete, what happened to the you in this universe huh? What happened to Peter Parker?” Peter blinks, the thought not registering with him. 

Then acknowledgement. 

“I’m… he’s dead.” 

Tony nods, the pain still evident in his face. “Died almost seven years ago, kid. So you tell me, what do you think she’d do if she saw you just then? What do you think that’d to do to her? God, I was being an idiot stopping here, what if someone recognized you? I had just wanted…” 

Tony continues but Peter’s mind is reeling, letting the words wash over him, eyes closing at the thought. 

_ It’s not his Michelle.  _

_ She’s here. _

_ She doesn’t know me.  _

* * *

 

They’re back in the car, Tony having fiddled with the radio before settling on a silence that was simultaneously comfortable and tense. 

Peter’s mind is still running a thousand miles an hour, still focusing on what he’d just encountered - on  _ who _ . Cause there she was, Michelle - the love of his life, the one who was carrying his  _ child _ \--

But that was just it, Tony was right.

This wasn’t his Michelle. 

Peter sends a glance towards Tony, eyeing the man whose hands were firmly on the wheel, almost forcibly ignoring the gaze Peter has towards him.

It’d hit Peter as soon as Tony had said it. He was right, that wasn’t his Michelle.

_ You’re not my Tony. _

Peter thought it, but he hadn’t said it - couldn’t reconcile the pain of those words just as much as Tony couldn’t seem to admit them. 

It didn’t matter to Peter, that the Tony beside him wasn’t the man he’d known - wasn’t the man who had mentored him, the one who had saved him countless times. The one who had eventually died in front of him. 

It wasn’t  _ his _ Tony, but it was Tony all the same. 

_ It’s Michelle. It’s still Michelle. _

Yet Peter knows the wisdom of what Tony was saying, understood the significance. It was different, for them - encountering the things that they did. 

Multiple worlds and universes - it was almost nothing when thinking of the life that they lived.

Michelle -  _ his _ Michelle - had taken the news of what Peter had encountered and did as a hero in stride, a process that had been built over years and years of trust and understanding.

Peter would like to believe that in this universe - in any reality - that Michelle would understand him, that they’d find each other - make it work. 

But this universe’s Michelle had lost him before they’d even had the chance to begin - a few years short of a decade in a world that had turned out differently than his own. 

Peter hasn’t just died in this universe, he’d saved it. 

He hadn’t given much thought to the Peter in this universe’s sacrifice, aside from the ache of what it had done to Tony. A part of him wonders what his legacy is then, Tony hinting that the world seemed to know of him just as they had mourned for Tony in his own.

A pang of remorse cuts through him, thinking for the first time - of May. In his universe, May had been snapped along with him but was it the same in this one? Peter hadn’t asked, hadn’t had the time.

Happy. Ned. The sharp realization of the hole that the Peter in this world had left behind. 

Peter couldn’t stay - no matter how much his heart ached at the thought. 

Who knew what May had gone through, if Tony’s barely contained grief was any indication? What had happened to Ned? To Happy? 

He saw Michelle -  _ it’s Michelle  _ \- but for all Peter knows, this Michelle had already married, had moved on and created a life just as beautiful and full in this world as Peter had created in his own.

It hurts to think about, the idea of a Michelle without him - for him to have to live a life without her. Hurts even more to think of May, of Happy - the countless other people in his life who, in this universe, had nothing left but to mourn him. 

Peter couldn’t stay. 

As Peter glances back to Tony, eyes still firmly on the road ahead of them, Peter wonders how he’s going to have the courage to break Tony’s heart once again. 

* * *

 

They arrive to the cabin quicker than he had expected, Tony rushing out of the car. Peter’s heart soars as he sees Morgan open the door, rushing towards Tony.

“Dad, what took you so long? You gotta see--” Morgan stops, frozen at the sight of Peter. 

She’s a carbon copy of his own Morgan, identical in a way that Peter hadn’t thought possible. He can’t begin to describe the nuances and complexity of the multiverse, the sheer happenstance it seemed that decided how and where the universes all collided together. 

But seeing Morgan - not  _ his _ but Morgan all the same - breaks something open in Peter.

This is a Morgan who grew up in a world with both her parents, in a world where the story of Thanos wasn’t of a monster who had eliminated half the universe and even in defeat, had taken her father - but of a madman who had died with nothing and had taken nothing from her. 

He’s surprised then, by the next words that come out of her mouth.

“Peter?” Tony turns to face him, the shock feeling evident on his face. Tony smiles, his arm wrapped around his daughter’s shoulder.

“Yeah, kiddo. This is Peter.” 

* * *

 

It’s strange again to Peter, how similar and yet different this universe is. 

Pepper - who is still just as calm, steady and as compassionate of a presence as she is in his world - takes his sudden appearance in stride, reminding him a little of Michelle. 

Morgan - who after the shock and confusion of seeing Peter, a Peter who she had grown up learning about, a Peter who was very much supposed to be  _ dead _ \- takes right after her mother, moving past the potential awkwardness and confusion to settle back into the sarcastically funny girl he knows in his own universe. 

It’s amazing to Peter, how similar this Morgan is - despite everything. It makes Peter question the probability of the universe, the arguments of nature versus nurture hammering on in the back of his mind. 

And yet, there is still something… different. 

Now, seeing Tony -  _ this _ Tony - in his element, Peter is struck with how comfortable and quiet of a life he has. 

He’d mentioned in the lab back in the Tower that he was retired, that he had long given up the mantle of Iron Man years and years ago. Peter hadn’t had to ask when that was, could give a good enough guess from the pain that still lingered in his eyes anytime he glanced at Peter. 

The cabin is decorated relatively the same, little touches of decor and technology just slightly different - just a nudge different from what he had anticipated. 

But what surprises Peter the most is how much of it, how much of this little slice of heaven that Tony has created for himself and his family - contains him.

There’s pictures of Peter everywhere, little touches and reminders that cause Peter to immediately understand how Morgan was able to recognize him. 

A picture in the kitchen of Peter and Tony in that ridiculous duck shirt he’d given him as a gag gift. A picture of Peter and Happy, a selfie that the latter hadn’t wanted to take but had humored Peter with anymore. A candid that Peter and Tony in the lab, one that Peter’s never seen before - though he can imagine it could’ve been a snapshot from FRIDAY’s surveillance footage.

Seeing the pictures, the little semblances of him - cuts at Peter. 

Tony had created a life for himself, amidst all the grief and agony and pain. Had tried to create a world for Morgan to live and grow up in that was filled to the brim with joy and love. 

And yet despite it all, it seemed that Peter -  _ his Peter _ \- still hung around, the ghost of him never fully leaving Tony’s life. 

He can’t stay. Peter knows this. So does Tony. 

But as Tony smiles at him, eyes shining as he describes some new composting thing that Pepper had created - something he’s sure he’s heard before - Peter realizes just how tempting, how awful this chance had to be for him. 

* * *

 

“You look just like him.” 

Peter turns, watching as Morgan joins him on the porch. She watches him for a moment before walking towards him, plopping down on the bench beside him. 

Tony was still in the cabin, having a whispered conversation with Pepper. Peter could hear it with ease if he wanted to, but he was trying to give them some privacy. It was clear that Pepper - no matter how surprised she had been - was trying to understand better what exactly had happened, what Peter - the boy who had died to save the universe - was doing here now, older and completely unharmed. 

“Yeah, I… I guess I do.”

“I mean, I know you  _ are _ him, I guess. An older him. But it’s still weird..”

“Yeah. It… it is.” Peter shakes his head, glancing at her. 

This is a different Morgan than the one he knows, just as confident and sure of herself. But there’s a lightness about her, something Peter immediately recognizes. 

This Morgan - for all her similarities with the one he knew and loved - hadn’t ever known loss, hadn’t shared the deep and unexplainable grief of losing a parent. 

Morgan hadn’t lost her father, but it seems to - Peter - she was never away from the knowledge that in this world, she had lost a brother. 

“Dad told me all about you, well, the you  _ here  _ I mean.” 

“Yeah? What did he, what did he tell you?” Peter’s hesitant, if only because while this was Morgan - a girl he had helped raise, a girl he considered to be a little sister all in name - he knows that this Morgan was not just different, but had a whole history that Peter could only guess at. 

Tony had taken his appearance in stride, completely willing and ready to open him up with open arms. Pepper had been slightly cautious, but open - if this Pepper was anything like his, their first interactions had been long before the events of the snap. 

But  _ this _ Morgan only knew a ghost, a memory of a person that Tony had clearly never let go of.

While Peter can only guess as to how she’s feeling, he can imagine that living in the shadow of the dead, and thus the perfect, couldn’t have been easy. 

“He said you were smart. That you were brave.” Morgan plays with the edge of her t-shirt, the motion of it striking Peter for how similar it is to his Morgan. 

“Is there… is there a me, in your world?” Peter nods, a soft smile in his lips.

“Yeah there is.” Morgan nods, Peter almost hearing how her mind is whirring. He can tell she has a lot of questions, that even being Tony Stark’s daughter didn’t dismiss the fact that she still couldn’t be more than twelve - if time passed the same as it had in his world. 

She seems to settle on one question.

“Are we friends?” 

Peter’s surprised by the vulnerability of it, can almost read the question beyond the question. This Morgan had never known Peter, but seemed just as willing and as ready to embrace him - to hope - that if given the chance, they’d know each other. Peter puts a tentative arm around her shoulders, Morgan looking up. 

“Yeah kid. Better than friends.” Morgan smiles as Peter returns it.

“We’re family.” 

* * *

 

“Figured I’d find you out here.” Peter turns, Tony joining him by the dock. 

Here he was, the same place he’d been all those years ago - looking out over the water in the hopes of changing the outcome that had gotten him there. 

This was everything he had ever wanted - the chance to find Tony, to have him in his life once again. 

But Peter isn’t a 17-year-old anymore. He has a fiancé, a baby on the way. He can’t reconcile with leaving them behind – couldn’t dream of coming into this world and uprooting the lives of the ones that this Peter had left behind.

Peter knew all too well the kind of grief that you carried when someone you loved was gone. And as much as it broke Peter to think of, he couldn’t change what had happened to the Peter in this world just as he couldn’t change what happened to the Tony in his. 

He looks to Tony, the man’s eyes soft and filled with tears. 

“I’m glad you’re here, kid.” 

Peter just smiles, puts a hand to Tony’s shoulders.

The understanding is there, even if no words pass between them. 

Peter can’t stay.

But he can enjoy the time he has left with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised it would only be a few days and I am a woman of my word!!! Because I love PAIN, I started another story that revolves around Peter & MJ, an A Walk to Remember AU that I have already cried endlessly about. 
> 
> It's called [Someday We'll Know](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20033305/chapters/47438809) and it is already filling the hole in my heart that the end of this story is bringing. 
> 
> Which speaking of, there's really only one chapter left and then an epilogue. Should have the next one up by Saturday. Thanks for hanging tight my dudes. Please feel free to scream at me.


	13. Coming Back.

He and Tony spend hours on the dock, shooting the shit - catching each other up on the lives and the worlds that they’d miss. 

The May in this world hadn’t been snapped, just as Peter suspected. The ache of that loss cuts at Peter, but he can’t regret his decision not to ask about her further, not to reach out. As much as he wants to see this May, maybe give her a call - Peter thinks in some way that would only make things worse. 

Tony says she’s happy though, moved away from the city. Last Tony had heard, she was in Connecticut, working with children. Peter smiled at the thought, of May using her skills and her love and pouring it into those who needed it most. 

If this May had lost him, if grief really was love with nowhere to go, he couldn’t think of anything better than for her to pour out that love to those who needed it most. 

They talked a little about the Ned of this world, Peter filling in the gaps of the Ned in his. This one, like his own, had gone to MIT. It was still amazing to Peter how much of a parallel their lives were, only diverged from one horrible thing - the one who had died. 

It’s only a matter of time before the topic turns to Michelle. 

“How did… I mean, how did you know--” Tony just looks at him, slightly confused.

“How did, did you talk to them? I mean, you--” Peter gestures, “Well the you in my world didn’t really, _connect_ with my friends you know.” Tony nods, a short laugh. 

“Yeah well, when you left kid… it…” Tony pauses, closing his eyes. “I had to do something, find some way to keep you around.” Tony sighs, looking out to the lake.

“Keeping tabs on your friends seemed to be the best way to do that.” 

Peter nods, letting the silence fill the space between them. 

“Is she okay?”

Tony sighs once more, taking a swig from his iced tea. 

“She is. But I’m not sure hearing about it will help you any.” Peter thinks about this, a sense of melancholy draping over him.

He wanted nothing more than to know Michelle - _any_ Michelle - had found happiness in life, that she was safe, that she was okay.

But the wisdom of what Tony was saying still hits at him, the recognition that it wouldn’t do him any favors to dwell on what Peter couldn’t change. 

Tony switches gears, bringing Peter out of his own thoughts.

“Tell me more about her, your Michelle.”

Peter smiles. “What do you want to know?” 

Tony nudges him, a smile on his face. 

“Everything, kid. Anything and everything.” 

Peter leans back in the chair, eyes looking upward. 

How could he even begin to describe his life with Michelle?

She was home, in every sense of the word. The world after the Snap had been horrifying, disjointed and chaotic that now - even after everyone had been returned - the effects were still being felt. 

It’d been busy work, Peter assisting with whatever Avengers came in and out, but his focus had always remained on the city of New York - staying close to May. 

To Michelle. 

It was a thought he had for years, something that even his trip through the multiverse had only magnified for him. Even now, sitting with Tony - in the type of world that Peter had only ever dreamed of before - his life with Michelle was something that he couldn’t truly imagine trading. 

Without May, without Michelle - he didn’t really have anything worth fighting for, just things worth dying for. 

And Peter had everything to live for.

“You know she figured out I was Spider-Man?” Peter smiled, Tony encouraging him to continue. 

“It was in the library, a couple months after the snap…”

 

* * *

 

Dinner at the cabin was better than Peter could’ve dreamed, if only because it felt so much like his own makeshift family dinners - but this time, the space that had previously been unfilled, the banter and wit of someone Peter had missed - was present. 

Pepper and Morgan settled in for a movie, Peter almost wanting to join them before Tony beckoned him out to the garage, towards what Peter knew in his world had been something of a lab. 

They walk out, the crickets chirping loudly in the background. Peter glances around the garage, whistling as he takes it in.

“Different than yours?”

“Mine’s a bit dustier now, you know.” Tony nods solemnly, taking out a step stool as he goes for a box on the top shelf. Peter watches him curiously, for a second.

“You need some help?”

“No, no, I got it. I just, I wanted to show you this.” 

Tony brings the box down, taking the lid off and Peter’s immediately overwhelmed with what’s inside. 

“My original suit? How did you--”

“May let me have it, after. I told her to give it to Ned but it was… too much for him, I think.” Peter swallowed, imagining again the grief his friends and family had likely felt in his absence. 

“Why are you--”

“Because I want you to know, kid. I never, I’ve never stopped missing you. Never.” Tony’s eyes are glistening with tears, Peter feeling a lump lodging in his own throat. 

“But this? I had to keep this hidden away. I couldn’t look at it, without thinking of you.” Tony chuckles, shaking his head. “But then when I bought the cabin, I couldn’t imagine a life without you.”

“I noticed, the pictures…”

“Yeah.” Tony put his hand over the soft and worn fabric of Peter’s old suit, Peter watching as Tony’s hand slightly shook. 

“The pictures helped me with Morgan, a way for her to know you. But this…” He places a palm over the suit, taking a deep breath.

“Seeing this only reminded me of how much I failed you.” 

Peter’s face falls, shaking his head.

“Tony, you didn’t--”

“I did, kid. I did. It should’ve _never_ been you that took up that gauntlet.”

“Tony--”

“I know. I know what you think, but… hear me out.” Tony takes another shaky breath, stabling himself on the bench. Peter waits. 

“I was furious with Strange, angry that he’d lied to me, allowed me to think that you were the only way to save everything. God, kid I spent years grieving you, and then it’s like the minute I had you again, you were…” Tony trails off, eyes closing as a tear slips out. Peter’s silent, sharing Tony’s grief. 

“I used to think, when Morgan was asleep beside me, that maybe, in another life, if it’d been me… that you’d be happy. That you would’ve found, found a good life for yourself. Would’ve been as safe and as protected as Strange promised that you would.” He looks to Peter, smiling through his tears.

“And here you are. Shit, you’re not even a kid anymore.” Peter’s own vision blurs with tears as Tony continues.

“You’re a grown man now, Pete. You’re going to be a _father_. And--” Tony shakes his head, bringing a hand to Peter’s shoulder. “I can’t tell you how proud I am of you.” 

Peter bridges the gap between them, bringing Tony into a fierce hug that Tony returns. They hold each other tightly, Peter letting himself relax in his embrace. He could count on one hand the amount of times his Tony had ever hugged him, yet this moment in the garage felt like it filled the hole in Peter’s heart that Tony had left behind. 

Tony loosens his grip before Peter does, seemingly willing himself to let go. 

“I wonder though, about your Strange. If he knew, when he had the time to...”

Peter nodded, wiping some of his tears with the back of his hand.

“Maybe it was on Titan, or sometime after. Maybe after the Snap? I don’t know…” Peter trails off, looking back to his old suit.

“I guess it doesn’t matter.” 

“No. It really doesn’t.” 

They fall into a comfortable silence, Peter’s thoughts screaming at him. He’s not going to stay. He can’t, he has to tell him but Tony beats him to the punch. 

“I wish that you could stay, Pete. You don’t know how bad.” Tony smiles.

“But I don’t know what I’d do if I lost Pepper, if I couldn’t have Morgan. And Pete--” He brings a hand to his shoulder, the grip on it firm. “You’re going to make an amazing dad. I wish that it could be here. I wish I could see it.” 

“I wish you could too Tony but--”

“You can’t stay.” 

Peter shakes his head, watching as Tony seems to truly accept it. 

“I can’t keep you here, kid. But I’m so proud of you for… for living. For still deciding to move forward.” His hand is still firm on on Peter’s shoulder. 

“It’s all I wanted for you, Pete. To be happy. And you are. I may not be there, but--”

“You’re there, Tony. In your own way.” Peter puts the lid back on the box that held his suit, Tony sensing the change and the finality of what he was doing. 

Tony was giving him permission to go, to leave and return back to the life he’d created with Michelle - his hummingbird - a life Peter couldn’t truly bring himself to leave.

And Peter, settling the lid back on the box, was trying to give Tony that same permission. To let him go, to move on. 

To trust that all of Tony’s wishes for him had come true - even if Tony wouldn’t get the chance to see them.

The finality of it settles between them, Peter biting his lip before Tony speaks up.

“You wanna work on something? Old times sake?”

Peter smirks, a mischievous glint in his eye. 

“Sure you can keep up with me old man?”

Tony laughs. “You bet your ass, Parker. Come on, I got a prototype I think you’d get a kick out of.” 

 

* * *

 

 

Peter wakes up to the sunlight streaming in from the room, lazily looking up. He can hear the din of dishes clattering and faint laughter coming from the kitchen, but Peter’s in no hurry - not yet. 

He has to leave. He knows this, Peter feels at peace with that decision.

But laying on a bed that wasn’t his, in a cabin so similar and yet so different from the one in his own, Peter lets himself relish - one last time - the reality of the world that he’d be leaving. 

A world where Tony had gotten to see Morgan grow up, where Pepper still celebrated anniversaries with the love of her life. A world that never knew the loss of Tony Stark, even if it seemed it was well-acquainted with the loss of him. 

Though Peter feels as if he’s cried endless tears since he’s been here, Peter lets himself cry once more - mourning a life and a man that, for as earnest as he was to get back - Peter still grieved, knowing he wouldn’t be able to see once again. 

 

* * *

  

The drive back to the city was quick, Peter wondering why the trips you didn’t want to end seemed to fly by the fastest. Before he knows it, they’re at the Sanctum - knocking on the double doors before Wong lets them in.

Tony flies past the man, Peter nodding awkwardly though this Wong is impassive. It shouldn’t sting, but it does anyway - the memory of the last time Wong - _his_ Wong - had spoken to him. 

Strange is there, face neutral. 

“It’s seems as if you’ve decided.”

“Yeah well, we didn’t come out all the way back out here for our health, Houdini.” Peter sends Tony a look, the man only shrugging as Strange rolls his eyes. 

“Your sarcasm is beneath you.”

“There’s very few things that are beneath me, Strange. You may not have been the asshole that led me on, but I still don’t like you.”

Strange rolls his eyes once more, before glancing to Peter.

“You’re sure of this decision?” 

Peter nods, meeting Tony’s gaze before he returns back to Strange. 

“Yeah. I’m sure.” Strange nods, the quirk of his lips betraying a small smile.

“I figured as much.” Without warning, Strange moves his hands and then - a ripple, the shimmering of it setting off Peter’s senses.

He backs up instinctively, Tony mirroring his stance.

“What… what the hell is that?”

Strange nods to it. “A portal. It will allow Peter entry, send him back to where he came from.”

“You’re sure?” Peter asks, voice uneasy as Strange nods.

“As sure as anything.” 

“How did you…” Tony shakes his head, waving his hand in front of him. “Never mind. I don’t want to know.” He turned to Peter with a smile. “I learned a long time ago kid, that you don’t ask questions that you don’t want to know the answers to.” 

Peter knows the last ditch attempt at humor is just a way to cope, Tony’s eyes searching his. 

“So. This is it.”

“Yep.”

Strange gives a short nod, goes to turn away saying, “I’ll leave you two alone.”

Before he can leave, Peter sends a hand out, surprising Tony, Strange and in some respect, Peter himself.

“Wait, Strange.” Strange stops, looking back at him.

“Thanks… for everything.” The man stares back at Peter, studying him before the realization hits him. This wasn’t Peter’s Strange, never would be - and no matter how quickly Tony had been in accepting Peter - fundamentally, they were different people.

Strange knew this, Peter knew this - and yet seemed to understand that while Peter’s Strange was gone, Peter just wanted to reach out one last time to him, to thank him for what he’d done.

There’s so much Peter wants to say to his Strange now, so much that he wants to understand. But Peter can’t, he knows that. And even if it makes _this_ Strange uncomfortable or unsure, the man seems to recognize the pleading in Peter’s eyes, the need to apologize for something that hadn’t been either of their faults. 

It’d been a misunderstanding, a miscommunication that for all Peter’s yearning - one that hadn’t ever been resolved before Strange’s death. 

He couldn’t change the past, couldn’t change his previous interactions with the man - knowing what he knows now.

But Peter could hope at least that _this_ Strange, would understand. 

He does, nodding to Peter, the faintest hint of a smile on his lips before he turns and leaves the room. 

Peter turns back to Tony and it’s as if the air has left his lungs. 

No matter how much he’d made his peace with it, no matter how much resolution had been baked into it, leading them here - Peter was overwhelmed with the grief, the magnitude of the moment in front of him. 

This was it. Peter was leaving - for good. There would be no more accidental trips through the multiverse, no possibility of ever seeing Tony again. 

Peter was going back to Michelle - to his hummingbird - and the thought of it made his own heart skip a beat. 

Yet the bittersweet sadness of this moment, the ache and realization that all his wildest and childish dreams had come true - only for him to willingly choose to leave them behind, still pained him. 

All that was left between them was goodbye, two men - two fathers - torn apart by a universe and forces beyond them. Peter is the one who initiates the hug - _one last time_ \- as Tony returns the embrace. 

“I never stopped missing you, kid.” 

“And I never stopped missing you, Tony.” 

They embrace, father to father - over the love they had, the life they had lost. 

The universe may not have allowed them to be together, but Peter was thankful that this time, he could at least say goodbye. 

Peter wishes he could linger, but he knows he has to leave - the pull of the rift drawing him in. He breaks out of the embrace, his vision blurring as he walks backwards, his eyes on Tony. 

“You be good, kid.” 

“I’m always good, Mr. Stark.” 

Tony lets out a choked laugh, Peter’s eyes so filled with tears that he can’t even see him. 

“God, kid. Pete.”

“I know, Tony.”

“I love you.” Tony says it anyway, Peter smiling.

“I love you too.” As he faces the rift, looking back one last time to Tony, Peter’s heart soars. 

He’d never get the chance to see Tony again - he knew it, he could feel it. 

Yet Peter knew that he was moving towards his life - a future - that would only make Tony proud. 

Peter faces forward, takes a step. 

And feels himself drift. 

 

* * *

 

 

_Lines of purples. Green. Deep blues. It’s everywhere. Peter is everywhere._

_Glimpses. May’s laughter. Tony’s scream. MJ crying. Peter can’t make sense of it, it’s everywhere, the feeling of it – the emotions, the agony, the joy, and the pain._

_Peter is falling, tumbling endlessly through the darkness, the light, it’s everywhere._

_Peter is everywhere._

_His head turns, he thinks it turns. Is there movement? Is he moving? All he knows is falling, falling endlessly through and around._

_Peter turns, searching, grasping. The darkness is there. The light is everywhere. Peter can’t take it._

_It’s too much. It’s everywhere._

_He’s everywhere._

_And then Peter is nowhere at all._

 

* * *

 

 

END OF PART THREE

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting the epilogue tomorrow. Thanks for joining me on this journey my dudes <3


	14. Epilogue: The Road Less Traveled By

Peter hears the sound echoing through their apartment before Michelle does, rolling over in bed. 

“I can go.” She murmurs, Peter smiling as she doesn’t even open her eyes, still half-asleep.

He presses a kiss to her forehead, Michelle sighing.

“Sleep, MJ.” The sound of her soft snore is the only response Peter gets, laughing as he slowly and carefully climbed out of bed. He walks down the hall of their apartment, quietly opening up the bedroom door.

The wailing is loud now, ringing in Peter’s ears. He’s exhausted, bone-chillingly tired in a way that he hadn’t ever expected, but as he walks closer to the crib, eyes looking downward - Peter still feels his heart skip a beat at the sight. 

Benjamin’s bright brown eyes are open, mouth wide as he lets out another loud and pitiful wail.

“Hey, hey, hey, what’s wrong huh? Daddy leave you alone too soon?” Peter reaches down, cradling Ben’s neck as he lifts him up, bringing Ben close to his chest. 

Ben’s wails are only slightly muted now, Peter slowly and gently swaying as he walks around the room. 

“Shhh, shhh. It’s okay. It’s okay. Daddy’s here.” Peter hums the song Ben used to sing to May to his son, Ben immediately quieting at the sound. 

Michelle called it magic, the effect that a pop song from the 60s had on their child but she didn’t complain. 

“Whatever works.” She’d said once, Peter just laughing as she smiled in return. 

 _“The tide is high but I’m holding on, I’m gonna be your number one.”_ Peter softly sings, gently swaying and singing until Ben’s cries are little more than a whimper. Peter continues to hum, softly until he can hear Ben’s heartbeat start to slow, a rhythm that still fills Peter’s insides with joy. 

He’d read in some parenting book - one that Michelle had rolled her eyes at when Peter had bought - that fathers typically faced an uphill battle in bonding with their children. Mothers had the opportunity to carry their child for nine months, a relationship that was impossible for the father to even attempt to have. 

Peter had come to expect it, only for any of his assumptions to be swept away the minute he’d held Ben in his arms. 

He still remembers the exact minute Benjamin Anthony Parker made his debut into the world.

Michelle - beautiful, even slick with sweat and exhausted - crying as the doctor had placed the baby on her chest, Peter smiling and laughing through the tears. 

He couldn’t believe it, couldn’t believe _her_ \- Peter was overwhelmed with love for her, running a hand through her sweaty hair.

Their eyes had met, but no words had been said - their attention brought to the tiny little baby they’d brought into this world. 

Peter remembers the moment he first held Ben, how small and light he’d felt in his arms forever sealed into his memory. 

But the part that still got to Peter - the memory that he held on to even as he held on to Ben now, slowly swaying as Ben’s breathing started to even out - was the immediate and intense rush of love that nearly overwhelmed him, the laugh that spilled out at the sound of Ben’s heart against his chest.

Rapid. Quick. Like a little hummingbird. 

Peter may not have carried Ben for nine months as Michelle had, had certainly been no help in bringing him physically into the world.

But Peter had been listening to Ben - _loving_ him - before he had even become Ben. Peter shouldn’t have been worried about bonding with his son.

Loving Michelle was the easiest thing in the world.

And now, loving Ben - was even easier. 

Peter closes his eyes, listening to the soft and steady heartbeat of his son beating lightly against his chest. He listens for Michelle’s in the other room, smiling to himself as he continues to sway.

There were worlds and universes beyond him, millions of galaxies that Peter would never get to know. 

He’d known so many losses in his life, so many people had been taken from him. 

But there - in the dead of night, swaying back and forth with his son in his arms, the love of his life in the other room - Peter knew, without a doubt - this was exactly where he was supposed to be. 

 

* * *

 

_Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—_

_I took the one less traveled by,_

_._

_._

_._

_And that has made all the difference._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And with that, this story has reached its end! 
> 
> I'll be the first to admit that I really enjoyed Endgame. As someone who has experienced and has [written a lot about grief](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18552091/chapters/43973215), the idea of creating a life for yourself after loss seems unfathomable - until you do it. While I have loved getting to read all of the wonderful fix-its the fandom has made, I couldn't help but think of what it would be like for Peter to have to move forward — and what that might look like. 
> 
> Thus, this story was born. 
> 
> Thank you all so much for following along and for all your kind comments. A special thanks to [blondsak ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blondsak)for encouraging me to have the guts to start this story in the first place. 
> 
> I am firm believer that there is still hope after loss - I hope you find the courage to keep fighting for it.
> 
> And a side note for the curious, the song that Ben and Peter sing is [The Tide is High by The Paragons](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SQXqkiKXiHc), an absolute classic & the song I listened to on repeat while writing this epilogue :)
> 
> Until next time my dudes. <3
> 
> Please feel free to come hang out with me on [tumblr ](https://seek-rest.tumblr.com)!


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